King For A Day
by suspiriorum
Summary: Preparing for the big premiere of Stolz Der Nation, Shosanna has a surprise, bittersweet visit from Fredrick, which leads them both to make decisions that will change the course of their lives.
1. Don't make a sound

Shosanna was forced awake in the early morning hours before sunrise as sleep did not come easy to her that previous night. Her body ached with an intense dread that turned her insides into knots; she would not be able to have any rest or comfort for the remainder of the day. Curling up into a corner of her bed, Shosanna spent the next few hours smoking cigarettes and contemplating all that lay ahead of her. There was no going back.

* * *

Shosanna feared her knees would buckle descending the staircase into the lobby as she was greeted by the sight of Joseph Goebbels and Francesca Mondino, closely followed by his personal entourage of German plebeians; all armed to the teeth with a variety of obnoxiously gaudy decorations specifically acquired for that night's premiere. Shosanna could not help picturing Madame Mimieux cynically observing such a spectacle and rolling her eyes to the point of exhaustion; such a thought brought a much needed twinge of amusement to the young woman. Goebbels immediately went to work the moment he came through the front doors, barking out orders and demands to the men which Mondino then translated for the theater proprietor's benefit.

_Such trivial nonsense,_ Shosanna mused, _After all, in another twelve hours nothing will remain but the foundations and ashes._

Later that afternoon came an absolutely beaming Col. Hans Landa. Here was a man who would engage you in pleasant conversation over dessert and then grind his cigarette out in the whipped cream topping with the same verve, Shosanna imagined, as grinding his slick boot heel into a victim. She could not understand how this _lusus naturae_ could be so offensively jovial. As Goebbels occupied himself with overseeing the finishing touches to his extravagant interior and exterior designs, Landa delighted himself with surveying every inch of the theater. Throughout this entire ordeal Shosanna kept her distance, allowing them to do what they felt was necessary to see their preparations through; she kept her posture as rigid as possible and balled her trembling hands into fists, shoved into her trouser pockets.

Landa, however, eventually proved difficult as he desired to be shown not only the projection booth, but the entire collection of 35 mm film prints as well. While he was not rude or demanding with his request, it was the prospect of having to look Landa in the face and engage him in a conversation that required saying more than "Oui" and "Non" that sickened Shosanna. Begrudgingly, she complied, as it was merely the promise of what was to come that evening that motivated her to cooperate with that day's events.

Shosanna stood in the doorway as Landa, back to her, gleefully perused the film collection. He talked on at length about films, only pausing to acknowledge the young woman's presence by asking her if she happened to have copies of Fritz Lang's _Die Nibelungen: Siegfrieds Tod_ and _Die Nibelungen: Kriemhilds Rache_. Before Shosanna could even answer, Landa found what he was searching for and continued on with the practically one-sided discussion by listing the differences between the films and the Wagner opera they originated from. She nodded along blankly, now intently staring at the back of his head.

Shosanna's eyes briefly darted about the room, searching for a blunt object. Perhaps one of the film reels? Or one of the film reel shipping cases? She then allowed herself the privilege of fantasizing about how it would feel, to grasp a reel, a case, _anything_ and to smash it into the back of Landa's head — the base of his skull, to be precise; to feel the impact and to hear the satisfying _crunch_ of bone.

It would never work out, however, as his body would be jarred forward and he'd collapse into the shelved reels, which would cause far too much of a commotion and bring the attention of everyone else in the lobby. If Shosanna could get away with doing so at that moment, she would; she would disarm Landa and continue to rain blows down upon him, even if she had to use her bare hands as weapons. The thought of that man dying beneath her fists was nearly far too much to resist. But Shosanna was shaken out of her reverie when Landa turned to fully face her and spoke,

"Even considering the differences, both are still beautiful triumphs of filmmaking, which stand well enough on their own, don't you agree?"

Startled, she absent-mindedly nodded her head.

He continued,

"Mademoiselle Mimieux, I _must_ apologize, as I have not allowed you a word in edge-wise. As disrespectful as I have been, will you forgive me? I just have not been able to attend a theater — film or stage — at all these past few years, given the circumstances."

He then smiled knowingly.

Shosanna stammered for a moment, but then gaining control of her composure, she managed a reserved,

"Oui."

"Splendid!" Landa exclaimed, clapping his hands together for extra emphasis.

"Now, if you do not mind, Mademoiselle Mimieux, if I may take a moment to set up temporary refuge in your office, I'll then be on my way."

* * *

The Colonel, as always, was true to his word. He arrived separately from Goebbels and Mondino, but they all left together after talking him into joining them briefly at a high-end restaurant to review the evening's plans over the finest wine that they could procure.

And there she stood, a lonely figure in the lobby. The decadence surrounding Shosanna made her feel ill; but as much as she wanted to collapse and break down, to shriek and sob to placate the ache she felt to her core, she could not. Marcel had left earlier that morning to busy himself with errands around the city, so as to stay out of sight and out of mind of their German guests. He would be back within a few more hours with the doctored reel, but until then, she was on her own. Entirely overwhelmed with a mix of emotions, Shosanna granted herself a brief reprieve and left the theater.

The sun was slowly setting, the sky alight with orange and pink and casting all below it with an ethereal, golden glow. Shosanna stood in front of _Le Gamaar_, her only sanctuary, which would soon enough be reduced to ruins. The marquee made a blaring announcement of the premiere of Joseph Goebbels' new masterpiece, _Stolz Der Nation_ starring his Golden Boy and Germany's war hero, Fredrick Zoller. And there, above the marquee was the young man's stoically handsome face, larger than life. Despite her frayed nerves and knotted insides Shosanna could not help but admire the beauty of it all.

She had spent her entire day running on nothing but pure adrenaline and as the last of it dissipated and exhaustion took over, reality began to heavily sink in.

_This is it. There is nothing left to do but put the gears into motion._

A tremor coursed through her and she let out a shuddering sigh. Steeling her resolve before heading back inside, Shosanna took in one more look at the sunset, realizing it could very well be the last one she'll ever see. And then she wondered about Fredrick, wondering perhaps, if he and the rest of them even stopped to enjoy such a simple pleasure?

Suddenly, the air became electric and Shosanna felt as though she were on pins and needles. It was then that she heard a voice behind her, softly musing,

"It is an eyesore, is it not?"

Startled, Shosanna quickly spun on her heel, only to find herself face-to-chest with Fredrick Zoller. He stood posture-perfect, hands clasped behind his back and dressed in his requisite uniform, with that enchanting, crooked smile he reserved only for her. There in the twilight, Fredrick had never looked so striking: Everything from the olive green of his uniform, to his cream colored skin, brunette hair, and dark eyes were sublimely illuminated. She found herself frozen stock-still, hypnotized by the young man's features.

Shosanna's eyes wandered to his sensuous mouth as Fredrick kept his impenetrable gaze on her; she would never admit it to him, but she had committed to memory the soft curves of his lips from the moment she laid eyes upon him. Her attention then wandered from to his mouth to below his neck, as she observed the gentle rise and fall of his chest. A slight smile permeated her lips as Shosanna raised her eyes once more to meet his; deep, warm and filled with reverence for her. Neither made a sound — save for those of their breathing — and allowed for a comfortable stillness to fall over them.

For that one moment, Shosanna and Fredrick were the only people alive, the world at their backs dead to them.

And just as quickly as that moment came, it went.

Appalled by her behavior, Shosanna halted herself before her thoughts became physical; she was further forced out of her trance upon realizing that there was no space between them. Beating a hasty retreat, Shosanna stepped back from him and immediately composed herself; her posture perfectly stiff, her face a mask of serenity. Fredrick's eyes were still fixated intently upon her, and she could see a trace of hurt within them. To demonstrate his acceptance of the situation, Fredrick gave her a nod of his head.

The comfortable silence grew cumbersome.

The German war hero nervously cleared his throat as he removed his side cap with his left hand and ran his right hand through a couple of rogue forelocks. He then spoke,

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Mimieux, I hope you are well and that I am not intruding - "

Apprehension took over and Fredrick hesitated, his hands wringing his cap. Shosanna cocked her head to the side, taking the time to observe, amusedly, how the German war hero was reduced to a timid adolescent in her presence. Even when bothering her, he did so with great charm. In a show of mercy Shosanna cut in, permitting him to continue with a simple,

"Fredrick?"

And she was rewarded with his ever-widening smile as he went on,

"I know you have been quite busy today, considering all that had to be prepared for tonight, but I wanted to stop by and see you..."

Shosanna raised an eyebrow.

"...It's just that I know how difficult Jose - Herr Goebbels can be — "

Catching his error, Fredrick restrained himself. Tension set in and she clenched her jaw. If this young man was hoping to impress Shosanna further, he was certainly off to a _wonderful_ start. Obviously agitated, Fredrick closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. If there was ever a better time for Shosanna to turn around and head back into _Le Gamaar_, to completely cut him off before having to bear his presence in another few hours, this was it. But she preferred to hear him out instead. The side cap was subjected to more twisting and pulling in his hands as he pressed on,

"I know his mere presence is intimidating, but I want you to know, Emmanuelle, how grateful _I_ am for you agreeing to host the premiere at _Le Gamaar_. The whole place could done up in paper streamers and birthday candles for all I care, as the glamour is all for the sake of the Nazi Hierarchy than it is for me; just as this whole night is for the benefit of Herr Goebbels despite anything else you may hear..."

Fredrick's voice trailed off and he directed his focus to the cap in his hands. The atmosphere, once alive with electricity, grew heavy with mood. It was downright suffocating. Growing anxious, Shosanna stared at him expectantly, silently pleading with him to speak. Raising his face to meet hers and seeing her concern, Fredrick carried on,

"This is probably rather foolish of me and could indeed wait until after the premiere and ceremony, but I want to tell you this now, when we're alone, without the interference of others, except for that of my nerves. Now, as you and I are aware, Herr Goebbels has set aside his grand visions of propaganda long enough to spare me the simple idea that I am destined for film stardom, perhaps even politics."

His demeanor hardened and he could not resist rolling his eyes at such notions. Filled with trepidation, Shosanna could not help but interject,

"Fredrick, I don't..."

He cut her off, practically spitting out his next thought,

"But after tonight, I'm walking away from all of it, from _them._"

Shosanna was dumbstruck. And perhaps she was imagining it, but she swore she could detect a note of disgust in his voice.

Breathing in sharply, Fredrick stood taller, prouder, than before and gave her a confident smile.

"I greatly appreciate both your friendship and your endurance of me, Mademoiselle Mimieux. Other than the sisters I left behind in Munich when I enlisted, you are the most genuine person I have had the pleasure of meeting. I have the whole country whispering in my ear, but you speak boldly and honestly; you treat me as Fredrick Zoller: Average Civilian, not Fredrick Zoller: War Hero or Fredrick Zoller: Film Star. You see, I do not care about them or their ideals, which is why it is so easy for me to walk away."

If they were (knowingly) enemies facing each other out on the battlefield, surely, he would see the gaping wounds his words had left on her. Shosanna found herself unable to breathe, as though she had been dealt a sharp blow to her abdomen. It ached with such intensity that she was certain she'd be sick. But Fredrick was unrelenting, tormenting Shosanna further.

His next request came out as a plea,

"But I care deeply about you, Emmanuelle, which is why I cannot walk away from you. If it is at all possible, and if you'll permit me, will I be able to still see you?"

If Shosanna clenched her jaw any harder, her teeth would shatter. She attempted to force her mouth open to speak, but to no avail. So there she stood, nearly gawking, mouth agape and brows knitted together. His next move would have reduced her to a bloody mess. Fredrick closed the gap between them, his eyes desperately searching hers for understanding. Shosanna felt herself falling to pieces. The entire day she stood back, more than happy to be an observer, barely uttering more than three words in her interactions with Goebbels and Landa. But here with Zoller, Shosanna spoke freely, yet cautiously now,

"You are prepared to do that?"

That infectious smile spread across his face.

"Oui," Fredrick replied, with playful defiance.

Shosanna found herself smirking. Two can play this game.

"You do know that it will not be easy, right?"

His smile unwavering,

"Oui."

Still smirking, but now narrowing her eyes, she shot back,

"What if the only solution is to exile yourself?"

Their exchange was growing more and more light-hearted, despite the seriousness of the subject matter.

With faux smugness, he answered,

"I have the whole world, if I must. Perhaps back to Munich, my sisters, and _Das Kino Haus_. Or how about the French Riviera? Why not Switzerland? Maybe, I'll just go to New York."

Then, lifting his eyes skyward thoughtfully, Fredrick wondered,

"And what good would all these travels be by myself? A little bit of company would be nice. Besides, after confessing this all to you, one could say that you are now my co-conspirator."

Despite herself, Shosanna smiled. But then, growing more serious, she pressed on,

"You would be willing to give up your identity if need be? To make it so that Fredrick Zoller: War Hero and, to the Allied forces, _War Criminal_, never existed?"

Fredrick, too, grew serious and stone-faced with his response, a quiet,

"Oui."

She wanted to look away, but his focus on her was far too strong, far too filled with need, love, and hope. Refusing to falter, Shosanna persisted,

"You cannot run away from your past so easily, Fredrick. You may be able to for a short time, but in the long run, it catches up with you."

He nodded, considering her words, before returning,

"Oui, Mademoiselle Mimieux. But you can never win or lose if you don't run the race."

His bright optimism, his charisma, and that infuriating smile would be the end of him, and of them both if she relented to him.

Becoming more introspective, Fredrick spoke again.

"Shortly after I was honored for my _achievement_, my sister Helga wrote me a letter. In it, she expressed her gratitude for my survival and reminded me to keep in mind the mothers of the men I killed in my prayers."

Voice strained, Shosanna inquired,

"Do you?"

For a moment, Fredrick appeared haunted. His voice was sad, almost distant,

"Oui. Every night since that weekend. I feel I did what any frightened, young soldier would do to survive, had they been in my position. I enlisted out of love of country, because I yearn for the world to return to the way it was when I was a child."

His attention to her resolute, Fredrick added determinedly,

"You see, Emmanuelle, I am willing to try."

And then, with a smile, he quipped,

"I'm not one to give up, you know that better than anyone."

Shosanna gave him a small smile, then turned to half-way face _Le Gamaar_.

"And so you admit that this illustrious display in your honor is meaningless?"

Turning back to Fredrick, her next question was almost a challenge,

"And you do know that you would be turning your back on the people - _the country_ - that adores you so?"

Shosanna stared intently at him, ready to scrutinize whatever witty retort he may have.

Pause.

That damned smile.

Fredrick shrugged.

"It is all hollow."

He may not have seen it, but the blood was draining from Shosanna's body. She tried to defend herself, but he proved to be too strong. He then delivered the deathblow.

Reaching out, Fredrick took her hand in his, holding and admiring it as if it were indeed something rare and precious on this earth. Shosanna trembled and her mind screamed to resist, but it was a losing battle; she lost it the second she glanced down from the ladder and saw his beaming face gazing up at her. His voice was both contemplative and honeyed with want, both philosophical and vulgar as he whispered,

"Besides, what is the love of many compared to the love of one?"

And with that, Fredrick pressed his lips - _so warm, so soft_ - to the back of her hand. And with that, Shosanna was dead.

She squeezed her eyes shut; her body weak and her mind rapidly following suit. Shosanna was grateful for the fact that Marcel would not return for another few hours or so, as she wanted to relish the contact of their flesh, the warmth of his breath against her. Shosanna let out a small, hushed gasp; barely audible, but to Fredrick, it was louder than any siren. She felt him smile against her skin and a shiver ran down her spine. Slowly opening her eyes, Shosanna was greeted by the sight of Fredrick admiring her, his eyes half-lidded with desire, his bright smile now a sheepish grin. Placing his side cap back on his head, Fredrick then lovingly cradled her hand in both of his as he spoke intimately, his voice barely above a whisper,

"It would be my pleasure to spend the duration of the evening with you, but as we're painfully aware, there's an event taking place that is bigger than us both."

Shosanna could feel disappointment settling in the pit of her stomach, which was obvious as Fredrick quickly appended,

"Of course, I am certain I can break away from the festivities to see you at some point tonight, as there is much between us that still remains unsaid."

Feeling dizzy, she soundlessly nodded.

Fredrick kissed her hand once more; lingering, longing, and if such emotions could be derived from a physical act, a fragment of melancholy could be felt as well. His exquisite tenderness took her breath away and he wanted nothing more than to preserve this moment for eternity; but it had to end. As Fredrick released her hand from his and stepped away to disappear into the ever-growing shadows, Shosanna could not help but feel a void left within her.

And so she stood alone, with nothing else but the thundering of her breaking heart. She wanted to run after him, screaming,

"I am Shosanna Dreyfus!"

She want to keep running until her lungs burned, to keep screaming her throat raw. She wanted to join Fredrick, to run with him until the darkness absorbed them both.

But she could not, as her body was leaden and her tongue was cut out.

Shosanna's hand burned from his absence. She raised it up for inspection, hoping to find some sort of mark, a reminder of him. Wretchedly disappointed, Shosanna balled her hand into a fist and held it tightly, until the blunt edges of her nails left crescent-shaped marks in her palm.

It was too late. Her plan had to be executed for her family. For Marcel. For every individual sentenced to death by being deemed _undesirable._ And Fredrick Zoller, that beautiful young man, the _German_ War Hero who loved her, a _Jewish_ girl, had unknowingly given her the greatest gift she had ever received:

The gift of her revenge.

To her credit, Shosanna tried to keep her distance, to turn him away. Against her better judgement, she now knew and was loved by an achingly human part of the war machine she sought to destroy. If only he hadn't been so persistent. If only he had been as heartless and brutal as the rest of them.

Fredrick Zoller, that beautiful young man, was unknowingly going to die for her that night.

There was no going back.


	2. There was lightning in your arms

_Is this how it is for Sergeant York?_

Fredrick Zoller was a war hero. Fredrick Zoller was a film star. Fredrick Zoller was only nineteen years old and alone in Paris. He was amongst fellow countrymen as they, _he_, were the opposing forces and occupying France. They all loved and admired him, but Fredrick, ever the fast learner, soon came to find that it was lonely at the top. Sure, he was frequently stopped wherever he went, but it was only for autographs and near endless flattery; it seemed as though none of them sought to befriend Fredrick or to even engage him in mundane conversation. All they wanted to ask of him was what it was like to be secluded in the bell tower, where the only option was to kill, and what it was like to be lauded for it. He knew how to fake a brilliant smile and restrain himself from answering,

"It was hell."

Fredrick sighed. The lonely beauty of the city at night was once his only consolation; but now he had something more to live for.

* * *

Fredrick was free to wander the city in return for all of the publicity he had done for Goebbels on behalf of the Reichsminister's forthcoming masterpiece, _Stolz der Nation_. His destination that night shone like a beacon, bright and blinding: _Le Gamaar_ theater. Out of all of the sights in Paris, Fredrick found the little theater to be the most striking of all; as he stood before it, he could _feel_ its reverence for film, and it was hypnotizing.

Immediately, Fredrick was reminded of home, of being tucked away in the projection booth of _Das Kino Haus_, marveling at that night's feature, be it a Conrad Veidt or Bridget von Hammersmark film; films were Fredrick's escape, and he had come to know and love their entire collection of 400 film prints, even being able to recite the majority of them by heart. Just as _Das Kino Haus_ would be his sanctuary in Munich, so would _Le Gamaar_ be for him in Paris.

And what luck! That night's feature was the Leni Riefenstahl film, _Die weiße Hölle vom Piz Palü_. Noting that it was to start within ten minutes, Fredrick anxiously made his way inside to the lobby to purchase a ticket. Once inside, Fredrick was halted in his tracks, taken aback by the young woman working there. She looked every bit the gamine, dressed in slacks and a brown cardigan worn over a button-up shirt. She appeared to be a little older than he; petite and delicately built, with pale skin, large green eyes, and golden, wheat-colored hair pulled back and up messily from her face, which accented her gorgeously defined facial structure. Underneath the soft lighting of the lobby, she positively _glowed_.

Their exchange was brief and she was professionally polite as she handed him his ticket; her fingertips brushed against his, igniting something in Fredrick, something he had not ever felt before. He did not even get a chance to ask her for her name as the woman excused herself, leaving Fredrick to watch, awe-stricken, as she ascended the staircase and headed for the projection booth. Hurriedly, he took his seat in the auditorium in the front, near the screen.

And there Fredrick sat for the duration of the film, smiling stupidly and hardly believing his fantastic luck. An hour after the feature ended, Fredrick would emerge from the shadows and approach her, perched on a ladder; it was _almost_ Shakespearean in its magnitude, and it would be the inadvertent start of a series of events which would change both of their lives.

* * *

Bodies, contorting unnaturally; there was no grace, no beauty in their deaths. Broken, bloody, faces twisted in agony. With brutal precision, he picked each one of them off. He was not a cold-blooded killer, not even a man ravaged by years of service to his country. He was a boy, trapped and cornered like a frightened animal in a nearly unwinnable situation with only one objective: survive. He wanted to live to see his sisters; he wanted to live to return to the projection booth to show the newest Humphrey Bogart film, and most of all, he wanted to out-live this war. Driven by fear and determination, Fredrick Zoller was the single survivor in a sea of corpses.

Shosanna had witnessed this spectacle three times now; each time, her stomach knotted a little harder, she gripped the arm rests a little tighter, and she sank a little lower in her seat. But each time, her heart ached with the same excruciating intensity. _Stolz der Nation_ was Goebbels' newest, lavish production, an embellished re-telling of the heroics of the lone German soldier beating back the Allied forces.

Yet within the young man's eyes, Shosanna recognized _something_ within their depths, a flicker of something that tore into her. She knew well enough just how fragile humans could be.

* * *

Fredrick's sisters back home in Munich wrote to him regularly, but they rarely touched upon the subject of that weekend in Italy; their only concern was that he was out of harm's way. His most recent letter came from his third oldest sister, Gerda. She wrote to update Fredrick about the everyday occurrences at home, about _Das Kino Haus_, about every little detail concerning the books she was reading, and about Annaleisa's latest cooking experiment. Gerda then closed with her usual plea, which grew more and more insistent with their every passing communication,

"Fredrick, _please_ stay safe."

Her handwriting was so careful and elegant that Fredrick must have read her letter over fifty times now and each time, he was on the verge of tears. He shared the same concerns as his sisters did, wondering on those nights that were not plagued by nightmares, those nights where he truly felt insignificant,

"Am I going to be okay?"

* * *

It wasn't right that he would die that night, now that Shosanna knew the real Fredrick.

_What gave him the right to do this to me?_

Their fates were now intertwined; the German War Hero and the Jewish Girl were bound together. As Shosanna prepared the final reel, she reasoned with herself; after all, he too, would know the truth.

_Fredrick Zoller will know Shosanna Dreyfus. My face will be the last he sees._

It was only fair.

* * *

_This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this, no, not like this…_

Distracting him with honeyed words gave her the edge she needed, yet within that split-second, Shosanna realized that she could not bring herself to kill Fredrick Zoller. As he turned back around, his beaming face fell into confusion and shock. Though Shosanna stood stiffly, her posture ram-rod straight, her pistol still trained on him, and her face blank, she was losing her composure. Fredrick could see it in her eyes, that same flicker which was ever-present in his own.

He raised his trembling hands up defensively and kept his voice low and calm,

"Emmanuelle?"

Shosanna's jaw clenched and she swallowed hard.

Fredrick tried again, his voice growing shaky and panicked,

"Emmanuelle, _please_, I - if you are part of the French Resistance - I told you what I did in the strictest of confidence that I…"

She interrupted him, her voice hushed and wavering,

"_Shosanna_."

Fredrick's brows stitched together, his mouth agape.

Her voice now came out louder, clearer,

"Shosanna. Shosanna Dreyfus. I _am_ Shosanna Dreyfus."

Fredrick's body grew limp and heavy, his voice barely above a whisper,

"_Jewish?_"

She thought she would be the one to crumble, but whereas Fredrick went slack, Shosanna stood tall and defiant.

"Oui," she replied coolly and firmly, "I am Jewish."

Shosanna then lowered her pistol, determining that he would pose no threat to her. Fredrick opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come; he appeared stricken and _ashamed_, but not for her. However, Fredrick did not turn away from Shosanna; instead, he steadied himself and met her gaze. A compelling silence fell over them, lasting only seconds, but for what felt like an eternity. It would be his voice that would break through it.

_Who wants to send a message to Germany?_

Shosanna stood straighter, held her head higher, and regarded Fredrick intently as she answered back,

_**I**__ have a message for Germany._

Fredrick's eyes widened, as he looked upon her with disbelief.

"Shosanna…?"

_That you are all going to die._

Shosanna took in a shuddering breath.

_And I want you to look deep into the face of the __**Jew**__ that is going to do it!_

"Please, Fredrick," she simply requested of him, "let me have _this_."

Steeling his nerves, Fredrick nodded. Words, as always between Shosanna and Fredrick, were insufficient. It was with a succinct response that he gave her his full compliance, as nothing less would do,

"Oui, Shosanna."

With that, an understanding was reached between them.

_Marcel... burn it down._

Offering her a quivering hand, Fredrick allowed for Shosanna to lead the way out of the theater, turning their backs on their pasts, leaving it all to burn.

* * *

_My name is Shosanna Dreyfus and __**this**__ is the face of Jewish vengeance!_

He wasn't quite certain how exactly they were able to escape intact. All Fredrick knew was that he trusted Shosanna to save them both; pulling him with urgency through hallways and stairways, the sound of machine-gun fire and screams intermingled with her laughter, the smoke and rising inferno at their backs. They had survived, but just barely. Now here they stood in the street, a safe distance away, watching as _Le Gamaar_ exploded into flames.

The world around them came to a standstill, as everything, the years of suffering, the anguish, was coming to an end, right before their eyes. It was all that they both wanted; but now, with their goals actualized, neither knew what to anticipate next, nor did they know exactly how to react. They could not find it within themselves to laugh or to sob, instead, the German War Hero and the Jewish Girl remained quiet. Where words were lacking previously, they now were unnecessary.

As their adrenaline died down along with the blaze, Fredrick looked over to see that he was still grasping Shosanna's hand; he then raised his head up to see her watching him, a nearly indecipherable expression on her face. Then, ever so slightly, Shosanna gave him an assured nod of her head. In return, Fredrick managed to give her a smile. Whatever was to come next, neither was going to be alone.


	3. Le Rossignol

She was barefoot.

Shosanna Dreyfus was holding hands with Fredrick Zoller as they bore witness to the demise of _Le Gamaar_.

She was barefoot, standing in the cobblestone street and holding hands with Fredrick Zoller.

Earlier that evening, Shosanna wore shoes: black satin slip-ons with a low heel, decorated with intricate beading, and hand-crafted with care. After retreating to the safety of the projection booth, she kicked them off, pinned back her perfectly curled hair and guided fate's hand with the next reel change. Those shoes once belonged to Madame Mimieux.

_Ada Mimieux._

She was a French woman of Chinese descent. She possessed a harsh beauty, sharp intellect, and a serious love of film. To others and to Shosanna at first, Ada was cold, even cruel; but her hard exterior belied her true nature. It took months of Shosanna hidden away in the projection booth, learning her craft and earning her keep before Ada fully acknowledged the young woman's presence.

One evening, Shosanna, exhausted, closed the theater for the night and prepared the letters for the marquee change early next morning. As she wearily climbed the stairs to make her way to the quarters she shared with Marcel, Shosanna was met at the top step by Ada, arms crossed and body in an authoritative stance. Expecting a reprimand, Shosanna stiffened, her hand tightly clutching the banister. Holding her gaze, Ada looked her over, a ghost of a smile upon her lips.

"You are a clever girl, Shosanna."

After that evening, Shosanna came to know the full extent of Ada Mimieux's generosity and fierce loyalty. When Ada fell ill that previous Spring, she entrusted full responsibility of _Le Gamaar_ to Shosanna. And eventually, with tremulous hands, Ada revised her will, leaving all of it to Emmanuelle Mimieux.

During her last days, Shosanna stationed herself at Ada's bedside, placing a cool washcloth on her heated, sweating brow; her long, dark hair spread out on the pillows and cushions that propped her up. Ada had become prone to coughing fits, as her lungs had progressively filled with liquid.

"I am not long for this world, Shosanna," she sputtered hoarsely, "and I regret leaving you in the current state it is in, but you are a clever girl; you will rise above this."

Those shoes belonged to Madame Mimieux; they didn't quite fit Shosanna's feet as they were a little too big. Those shoes belonged to Madame Mimieux and Shosanna kicked them off into a corner of the room. Those shoes, like _Le Gamaar_ and every other little thing left to Shosanna, belonged to Madame Mimieux and it was all now burning away, right before their eyes.

It _almost_ seemed as though Shosanna was destined for great loss; she _almost_ would have been convinced of this herself, if it weren't for the young man beside her. Squeezing his hand tighter, she took notice of the white cuff of a long-sleeved dress shirt peeking out from under the sleeve of his tunic. Their eyes met as they regarded each other carefully; Fredrick could tell something was afoot. Breaking their handhold, Shosanna grabbed ahold of the high collar of his uniform shirt, and using all of the strength she could muster, she ripped it open; pulling and tearing it from his body until only the dress shirt remained.

Stepping closer to the wreckage, Shosanna then took the ruined material and threw into it into the fire, to be eaten away by the flames. He did not protest her actions, nor would he mourn the loss of its status and all it represented. Returning to Fredrick's side, she ran her fingers down the side of his face, lightly brushing them against his lips; he closed his eyes and held his breath as she did so. Though the contact was brief, it spoke volumes. As Shosanna withdrew her hand, Fredrick released a shuddering breath and opened his eyes; there was a sorrow within them that tore through her. Shosanna steadied herself and spoke seriously, her voice low,

"We cannot stay here, Fredrick. We must leave, _now_."

His attention completely centered on her, he simply nodded in response. Fredrick had given Shosanna his complete love and trust and she knew that in return, she too would give him the same; but for now, Shosanna had to see to it that they both made it out of there alive. Taking his hand in hers once more, Shosanna led the both of them away, to be swallowed by the dark of the night, to be absorbed into the shadows as the streets filled with the living.

To the rest of the world, Fredrick Zoller was dead.

To the rest of the world, Emmanuelle Mimieux was dead.

And Shosanna Dreyfus, once dead, rose from the ashes like the phoenix to live again. Through her immolation, Fredrick too, was re-born. Together, it would be only the two of them; there was no turning back.

* * *

The night air chilled them to the bone as Shosanna guided Fredrick through darkened alleys and dimly-lit streets. She knew this city well and so far managed to keep the two of them out of sight as more and more people gathered and rejoiced at the sight of the devastated theater. Dressed in red, Shosanna was a beacon and Fredrick Zoller, German War Hero, was far too recognizable. Though the worst of it was now over, there was still much left to overcome. With no clear destination in sight or mind, the two travelers forged ahead, even as their lungs burned and their muscles ached.

The cobblestone streets were especially unkind to the soles of Shosanna's bare feet, yet she still persevered. His hand was tightly gripped in hers, and this young man was entrusting her with his life. For the previous four years, Shosanna, though involved with Marcel, fully relied on herself and herself alone to make it through to the end of each day; but now, she had someone else to consider: Fredrick Zoller. Seemingly bound by fate and by film, Shosanna could not fathom leaving him behind with the others, not after what they had been through, not after finally seeing the delicate heart which beat beneath the surface of the uniform. However, more than that, he loved her.

Fredrick Zoller loved Shosanna Dreyfus.

He loved her to such an extent that he trusted her to pull him from the bowels of hell and would follow her to the ends of the earth.

He loved her with such passion that it cut deeply into Shosanna; it both terrified her and touched her on such a level that it could bring her to tears if she were to allow herself to even consider the gravity of it all.

There was a sliver of hope out there for them and though it was extremely risky, she was willing to try. She could not afford to lose him, not after all of this; they now needed each other more than either could ever comprehend.

And so Shosanna pushed onward.

* * *

Madame Mimieux's illness came upon her suddenly and unexpectedly. Neither Shosanna nor Marcel could have anticipated that they would ever find Ada collapsed in the lobby and in such a weakened state.

Shosanna never would have thought that she would be at Ada's side, watching helplessly as she deteriorated.

Shosanna had to force herself to assist Marcel with that evening's duties; together, they kept each other company in the projection booth. Neither said a word to the other, as no words were necessary. That night's feature was _Buster se Marie_, the French-language release of Buster Keaton's _Parlor, Bedroom and Bath_. It had always been a personal favorite of Marcel's, but that night he stared blankly ahead, his eyes glassy. Silently, Shosanna reached for his hand and held it for the duration of the film.

Returning to Mimieux's quarters, Shosanna was horrified to find Ada sitting in a heap on the floor, documents and papers strewn about her as she frantically searched through them. Ada was a shivering, sweaty mess, her hair was in disarray and her eyes were wide with panic. Hearing Shosanna's choked sob, Marcel came rushing in. As he gingerly took her by the crook of the arm to help lift her up from the floor, Ada took Shosanna's hands in hers, shoving a folded piece of paper into her palms.

"You will need her, Shosanna," Ada cried, "You will need her!"

Taking great care into placing her back into bed, Shosanna returned the washcloth to Ada's forehead and tried her best to pacify the rattled, ill woman.

"I have not failed," Ada muttered, "I have not failed you."

Later that night, Shosanna sat up in bed, her legs pulled up against her chest, the slip of paper in her hands was still unread.

"The fever has made her delirious." Marcel determined simply and sadly.

Shosanna did not reply, as she could not bring herself to.

After he had fallen asleep, she unfolded the paper. Written in Ada's precise lettering read,

_Molyneux. Le Rossignol._

* * *

Ada Mimieux passed not long after that evening. Her expression was placid and she gave Shosanna a weak half-smile. Marcel and Shosanna saw to the rest of her affairs and honored Ada's wishes by having her cremated and spreading her ashes along the Seine. That same day, Shosanna Dreyfus became Emmanuelle Mimieux and all that came with it.

She still held onto that piece of paper, tucking it away into a drawer of the vanity that now belonged to Emmanuelle Mimieux.

* * *

Perhaps it was mere chance, but for Shosanna and Fredrick, it was a merciful gift from the heavens. There stood a glimmer of light in the pitch-black night:

_Le Rossignol_ Inn.

Turning to face him, Shosanna held Fredrick's hands in hers.

"Fredrick," her tone emphatic, "you _must_ trust me. This is quite a risk, I know, but allow me to do this. Please, you _have_ to trust me. Can you do that?"

Without falter, he replied,

"Oui, Shosanna."

* * *

Upon entering, the two were greeted by a sight which recalled a more peaceful time, one which was long gone. _Le Rossignol_ was quaint; hardwood floors, tapestry rugs, over-stuffed plush furniture, and painted portraits of countryside landscapes, all illuminated by the welcoming, warm glow of lavish wall sconces. To the right of them was a grand wood desk, complete with baroque carvings. Seated behind the desk was a woman and as they stepped forward, she rose to meet them, practically bolting out of her seat and standing stock-still.

The woman was striking; she was older than Shosanna and Fredrick, yet still young. She was tall, thin, and long-limbed, wearing a short-sleeved periwinkle dress, and belted at the waist, it was immensely flattering to her figure and features. Her face was both angular and soft, with a cream-colored complexion, blue-gray eyes, and shoulder length golden-blonde hair.

There was an air of kindness to her, even though she appeared startled by their presence, her eyes darting from Shosanna to Fredrick. Seeking to diffuse the situation before it could go awry, Shosanna cautiously came nearer, keeping a comfortable distance between them. As she spoke to the woman, Shosanna attempted to mask the desperation in her voice, but was failing,

"Molyneux?"

Relief poured over the woman and she nodded enthusiastically; quickly, she excused herself and retreated through a set of double-doors located back behind the desk. Though the two of them seemed to be in the place Ada indicated, it was impossible for Shosanna to predict what was to happen next; after spending four years living meticulously with strict routine and structure, she was on edge and balling her now slick hands into fists at her sides. She decided that it would be a vulgar joke on behalf of the universe if it were all to end for her and Fredrick then and there, after all they had survived thus far.

_No matter what_, Shosanna knew, _I cannot fail Fredrick. I cannot fail myself._

Sensing her unease, Fredrick, ever-reliable, stepped close behind her and rested a firm hand upon her shoulder, and Shosanna permitted herself to ease into his kind gesture. There was more he wanted to do, that he wanted to say, but the double-doors swung open, and nearly jumping, Fredrick withdrew his hand and stood back sheepishly. Shosanna was left feeling cold from the absence of the pressure of him against her, but she recovered and gathered her resolve. The younger woman, resuming her standing position behind the desk and clasping her hands in front of herself, was followed by an older woman, who took her position outside of the desk, in front of Shosanna and Fredrick.

There was a strong resemblance between the women, though the older one was taller, with sharper features, honey colored hair, paler skin, and lighter eyes. Dressed in slacks and a buttoned-up white blouse with her hair pulled back and her hands thrust in her pockets, the older woman was just as lovely as the other, younger one, but her beauty had a particular intensity that the younger woman lacked. She directed her steely stare towards the young woman and man in front of her.

"I first wish to inform you that Genevieve there, has in fact, a 7.65 calibre pistol on her person at all times. As you can see, she now has it at the ready, in case either of you desire to try anything."

With her back to the younger woman behind the desk, Edwige queried,

"Isn't that correct, sister dear?"

Sure enough, Genevieve had her pistol steadily trained on Fredrick and Shosanna, her face beaming.

"Oui," she confirmed.

The older woman grinned at them.

"You do not desire to do anything of the sort, now, do you?"

Shosanna swallowed and shook her head.

"Non, Madame."

The woman's grin grew into an open-mouthed smile.

"I feel we can do away with formalities; I am Edwige Molyneux. As you have probably figured, the sweet young thing behind me is my younger sister, Genevieve Molyneux. Now, if you would, indulge us: Why have you graced us with your presence?"

Shosanna gave a nod of her head and cleared her throat before speaking,

"We are in need of shelter - "

Before she could continue, Edwige cut in,

"My dear, all who come here are in need of shelter, that much is _obvious_. What I am asking is, who told you of this place? _Le Rossignol_ is not a half-way house for just any street urchin who passes by."

Squaring her shoulders, Shosanna returned,

"Ada Mimieux."

For the briefest of moments, Edwige's eyes widened with recognition, and the corners of her mouth turned up ever-so-slightly.

"_Ada_? How is she these days?"

"She passed," Shosanna answered somberly, "last Spring."

Just as Edwige's features lightened, they now darkened.

"That is… regrettable."

Taking in a breath, Edwige brightened somewhat, and re-focused on the business at hand.

"Since you are both standing before me, then you must certainly have a justifiable reason for staying the night here."

She then paused, removing her hands from her pockets and placing them on her hips before carrying on,

"Now, since you are both acquainted with us, we must know your names."

Refusing to wither before the older woman, Shosanna stood straighter, taller, her voice bold,

"Shosanna Dreyfus."

Edwige's hardened demeanor noticeably softened; her tone became gentler.

"Ah, _oui_. There it is."

It was the third time that night that Shosanna was able to openly and honestly reclaim her identity; she almost could have crumbled, but she did not. Not yet, not now.

Edwige now looked to Fredrick, but her inquiry was aimed at Shosanna.

"And who is your companion, Shosanna?"

Fredrick was standing at attention like a soldier, and considering his very recent past, it could not be helped. He kept his face blank, but Shosanna, adept at reading his expressions, could easily see that Fredrick was barely holding himself together. Thinking fast, Shosanna reacted before he could,

"He is my ally, Amos."

Edwige thought on this for a moment, raising her hand to her chin.

"Amos - ?"

"Trèves," Shosanna finished, her voice flat and calm, despite her nerves, "Amos Trèves."

Side-stepping her, Edwige advanced upon Fredrick, and placed her hand beneath his chin, directing his face to hers. Her eyes were penetrating as she looked upon him with scrutiny; Fredrick remained steadfast, his posture rigid as he met her focus.

"_Amos_?"

Edwidge stressed every syllable; she didn't pronounce it so much as she hissed it. Fredrick held still and unflinching as he gave her a straightforward,

"Oui, Madame."

Interrogating him further, she pressed,

"Trèves? The background of your surname, along with that of Dreyfus, would indicate that you both originate from Troyes. The two of you must have known each other for quite some time then, haven't you?"

From the corner of his eye, Fredrick could see Shosanna tense up and her jaw clench. For her sake, more than his own, he stayed resolute.

"Oui, Madame."

Casting a sidelong glance at Shosanna, Edwige mused, "Truly, the value and significance of such friendships are realized in times such as these, are they not?"

Looking to Shosanna, Fredrick did not miss a beat,

"_Oui_, Madame, very much so."

Edwige arched an eyebrow. It was clear that she had her suspicions, but if she had caught onto their ruse, she made no indication of it.

Edwige stepped back from them, putting a considerable amount of space between them as she deliberated; the tension was palpable as an unsettling stillness fell over them. Her nails digging into her palms, Shosanna broke through it, raising her head defiantly as she did so,

"Your time has been appreciated, Madame Molyneux, however, if you are not able to put us up for the night, then we understand and shall take our leave. We – "

Edwige curtly interrupted,

"My dear, that is _enough_ of that. If we were to let you two wretches back out into the night, we could not live with ourselves. But if you do indeed intend to have the rats of Paris feast upon your forgotten corpses, then by all means," with her hand, she gestured toward the doorway with dramatic flourish, "take your leave of us and let us to go on with imagining the variety of gruesome acts that will befall you."

Edwige then crossed her arms over her chest.

"But I can assume that you do not intend for that to happen, now, do you?"

Both frozen in place, Shosanna and Fredrick meekly shook their heads.

Edwige nodded, her mouth forming a bemused smile.

"Right. Now, I can further assume that neither of you have identification papers and not only that, but neither of you have any money?"

They both nodded.

Looking them over once more, her smile broadened. With her back still to Genevieve, Edwige ordered,

"Stand down, sister dear."

* * *

"'Amos?'" Fredrick wondered of Shosanna, his voice apprehensive.

"My brother."

Her voice was void of emotion as she turned her back to him and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Shosanna stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying her reflection.

Edwige, nearly ten minutes ago, escorted she and Fredrick to their room on the second floor of the inn. Located at the very end of the hallway, it was a sizable room, as much as one could expect from such a little building; complete with a desk, a small closet, a single bed (which appeared to be accommodating enough for the both of them), and the bathroom in which she currently stood. Edwige had handed them clean towels, a few toiletries, and the promise of further discussion later the following morning.

Shosanna wanted nothing more right at that moment than to immerse herself into the bathtub - a charming, porcelain tub with clawed feet - and to then sleep until the next century. Now she examined her features in the bathroom mirror - oval, and hung above the sink - noticing how the earlier events of that evening were still evident in her appearance. Her hair, flawlessly curled and pinned up, was barely mussed, with nary a hair out of place; her make-up was impeccable and her face still radiant, save for the shadows beneath her weary eyes.

Fredrick, Shosanna knew, was drawn to her eyes. She was resplendent in her red dress, and she noted with grim satisfaction just how many of the theater's guests raked their eyes over her body, all except for him. Fredrick's eyes were locked on hers, filled with the kind of adoration she had never experienced before, not even from Marcel. For the German War Hero, her eyes were her most beguiling feature.

Her red dress.

Francesca Mondino had offered, on behalf of Reichsminister Goebbels, to procure her attire for the premiere. Shosanna refused politely, insisting she would handle the matter herself; this was to be _her_ night, the night all traces of the Third Reich would be incinerated from existence, and she would be damned if she were to keep a reminder of _theirs_ swathed over her body.

Scraping together what funds she could, Shosanna visited a boutique she had only passed once or twice; tucked away towards the back of the shop, amidst a sea of extravagant gowns and dresses, she had found it. It was simplistic in its glamor, yet it carried an air of refinement and intrigue; Shosanna knew very well of deceptive appearances. The finishing touches - the sequined, veiled cap, handbag, shoes, and even the pistol - were all previous possessions of Madame Mimieux. Shosanna had discovered them after inheriting _Le Gamaar_ and Mimieux's quarters; she was never certain if any of them - especially the pistol - would ever be necessary.

She now grimaced at her overly made-up face; it was her warpaint and part of her seduction of the Nazi Hierarchy, but now with that purpose fulfilled, Shosanna wanted to do away with it all. She never wore make-up before tonight, as there was never a need to. Her mother, Miriam Dreyfus, was naturally beautiful, but more than that, she had always stressed to Shosanna the importance of looking inward, as opposed to outward.

_"You must remember, Shosanna, that the kindness and purity of your heart will be reflected for all to see."_

Reaching her arms behind her back, Shosanna pulled down the zipper tab, watching as the dress fell away from her flesh, leaving it to crumple at her feet. Just as rapidly, she removed her undergarments and yanked out the hair pins which were so precisely affixed throughout her curls. There Shosanna stood, fully nude, her hair a tousled golden halo framing her painted face. Easing herself into the bath, she took the bar of soap left by Edwige into her palms; round and pink, it smelled of perfume and had a fleur-de-lis stamped into its surface. To re-affirm that she had indeed survived, that she had made it to see the end of another day, Shosanna lathered up the soap, running it over herself; she sought to scrub all remnants of her past from herself and was both amazed and perplexed that this body - _her_ body - was capable of withstanding so much.

As her hands slid further down her abdomen, she thought of Marcel, the only other person who knew her body as well as she did. Earlier that evening, after Fredrick's visit and subsequent confession, after Marcel returned with the doctored film reels and before she prepared for what was to come, Shosanna pushed Marcel against the wall of the projection booth and made violent love to him. Having taken off her coveralls, Shosanna was nude from the waist down. She untucked his shirt and unbuttoned his slacks, giving her all the access she needed to him. Shosanna hitched her leg up and around Marcel as he cupped her bottom and lifted her up and against him, her back to the wall.

It was passionate and rough, and as she closed her eyes, Shosanna's mind wandered to Fredrick; of how his lips against her skin so easily and viciously aroused her; of how his young, militaristically trained body would look and feel against her, in her, and beneath her. She thought of his hand here, his mouth there; how his eyes - full of longing for her - would take in the sight of her nude body, and she thought of his sweetly boyish face just as he would be on the brink of climax. With a shiver, Shosanna came hard and fast, with Marcel following after. Upon opening her eyes, she found herself flooded with guilt, shame, and disappointment; what was to become of her?

Even now, Shosanna pondered this; not only for herself, but for Fredrick, for Marcel. She could smell the smoke and taste the ash as she envisioned Marcel behind the screen, awaiting his cue as Fredrick valiantly fought back against the Allied forces just as the two of them confronted each other in the projection booth.

Holding her breath, Shosanna submerged herself under the bath water.

* * *

As Shosanna exited the bathroom, Fredrick, seated on the side of the bed and awaiting her return, hurriedly leapt to his feet. He wanted to speak, but was awe-struck by her appearance: Shosanna re-dressed in only her slip; made of fine silk, it was cream-colored with a low-cut, square neck, thin straps, and the length of it came down to her knees with lace trim at the hem. The thin material clung to her like a second skin, exposing much of the pale skin of her body. Her hair, slightly damp, was slicked and pinned back from her face, revealing and complementing her gorgeous bone structure.

As enticing of a sight as she was, Fredrick seemed troubled, and self-consciously, he lowered his eyes to the floor. Concernedly, Shosanna approached him, closing the space between them, her nearness wordlessly demanding his concentration. Running a shaking hand through his hair, Fredrick forced himself to look upon her, his eyes meeting hers. Shosanna was nearly taken aback and her breathing all but halted; his warm, dark eyes were haunted and his voice was rife with agony,

"_Shosanna_."

She did not hesitate.

"Fredrick?"

Grasping at his own hands, he swallowed hard; a moment passed between them without another word.

The atmosphere, though not disagreeable, was most definitely charged and was threatening to grow stifling.

His lips now parted, Fredrick gave a nod of his head and took in a breath, his rogue forelocks he was always making the effort to tame when in her company fell forward once more. Exhaling harshly, Fredrick's voice was small, yet urgent,

"_Shosanna_, with you, words have failed me time and time again, and even this moment is no exception. I do not think I will ever be able to fully articulate just how much all of this and _you_ mean to me - "

He then gave a nervous laugh and clutching at his hands, Fredrick raised his eyes thoughtfully. Arms wrapped around herself, Shosanna observed him warily and quietly beseeched him to go on. With another sharp intake of breath, Fredrick's eyes met hers.

"I don't want you to feel as though you have any obligation towards me - "

Brows knitted together in confusion, Shosanna broke in,

"Fredrick, I don't - "

"Shosanna," Fredrick pleaded, "_please_, let me have this."

The way he looked upon her was always her undoing, and now was no different; Fredrick had nothing but veneration for Shosanna and seeing the way his shoulders slumped, his wringing hands, and the way his face fell, she knew she could not deny him his request. Fredrick had already broken down the barriers she had so fastidiously built around herself over the years and if he wanted, _needed_, more of her, then Shosanna would concede.

"I do not want you to feel any obligation towards me, Shosanna. It's just that - earlier tonight, my behavior, it was…"

Voice wavering, Fredrick trailed off. Clenching his jaw, he ran a hand through his hair, keeping the other one at his side, balled into a tight fist. Closing his eyes, Fredrick then gathered his thoughts before trying again.

"My behavior was severely out of line, Shosanna. I want to assure you that I _never_ would have, nor could I _ever_ hurt you…"

Fredrick felt like a man lost at sea, struggling to keep his head above water and thrashing about to stay afloat. Shosanna, all the while, was undaunted, her eyes on him, imploring him to keep on.

"Shosanna, I - "

She knew what Fredrick felt; she could feel it, sense it, from the moment she first laid eyes on him. However, to hear him actually say it was still more than she could tolerate. A shudder coursed through her body, and Shosanna averted her eyes from Fredrick. Beleaguered, he seated himself back on the bedside and concealed his face within his hands.

"_I am not capable of this_," he breathed, his voice barely audible.

It was more than either could take, and with that, Fredrick trembled as his body was racked with sobs.

Shosanna never knew how readily her heart could break until tonight, as Fredrick was so proficient at it.

Without apprehension, she went to him and without a sound, she offered her quiet comfort; Shosanna could not deny him. Eagerly, Fredrick accepted, and wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her chest, he wept bitterly. Shosanna was silent as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, over and over, as he held onto her and grieved. He grieved for himself and for Shosanna, for the men that lay dead outside of the bell tower in Italy, for all those who lost their lives in this war, and the others who were left alive and damaged; just as he was, just as Shosanna was.

Against her skin and the smooth fabric of her slip, he murmured in German, his voice choked with emotion. Stilling her movements, Shosanna rested one hand on Fredrick's shoulder, and brought the other to cradle the back of his head. And so they endured like this; the Jewish Girl soothing the German War Hero, alleviating his burden as he fell to pieces.

After some time passed and Fredrick's ache subsided, he pulled back from Shosanna, and hands resting on her hips, he raised his eyes to hers. With his wide-eyed countenance, Fredrick seemed so _lost_, so uncertain. She knew that the two of them, German and Jew, were on the different sides of the same coin; those in power who had indoctrinated and enlisted him to go into battle for their cause - the same powers that be which had sought to destroy her and all other _undesirables_ - were destroying their own children.

Sharing a meaningful look, Fredrick's mouth formed an almost imperceptible smile. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Shosanna leaned forward, her lips meeting his; lightly, softly. The kiss was equal parts wanton and chaste, causing a blush to rise to Shosanna's face; in turn, his mouth against hers, Shosanna felt Fredrick's smile broaden.

Her heart split in two.

* * *

Shosanna lay on her side, facing Fredrick as he lay on his back. First, he had removed his dress shirt, but had to be coaxed out of his slacks - "You cannot possibly be comfortable sleeping in them, can you?" - and nervously, he joined her, clad in his white undershirt and briefs, revealing much of his strong, toned body. Imbued with a sense of modesty, Fredrick covered himself with the bed-sheet, pulling it up to his chest. Shosanna exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, and in response, Fredrick playfully smirked at her and raised the sheet up, indicating for her to join him.

Sliding beneath the linen, Shosanna curled into his side, nestling her head in the curve of his neck as he snaked his arm around her and over her shoulders. Fredrick marveled at the softness of her skin as he breathed in its lightly perfumed scent and relished the feel of her breath against his pulse.

"Shosanna?" he inquired softly.

"Hm?"

"Where shall we go?"

He felt her smile.

"Anywhere we want to, Fredrick."

Then, hesitantly,

"And you will still be here when I wake up?"

He felt her shift, as she nuzzled his neck and brought her mouth to his ear,

"_Always_."

Shosanna then eased herself back against him, pressing herself closer to him.

For the first time in the longest time, he knew that finally, he would be more than okay. Satisfied, Fredrick gave a contented sigh as exhaustion claimed them both, and he slept peacefully as he was lulled by the hushed sound of Shosanna's breathing.


	4. No BadVibe Hearts

Shosanna was startled awake; she was disoriented, with her heart pounding in her chest and her mind screaming. For a moment, she was not certain of her whereabouts, as her internal clock was still in the routine of the previous four years; all of which was brought to an abrupt end the night before. As foolish as she realized it was, Shosanna nonetheless expected to find herself in bed within the sanctuary of _Le Gamaar_, with Marcel, ready to face yet another standard - though relatively safe - day. But the young man beside her changed all of that.

He _had_ to stand apart from the others.

He _had_ to be so genuinely kind.

He _had_ to be so modest.

He _had_ to come from a family who loved him and worried for him.

He _had_ to be like her, trapped within their circumstance and terrified of an uncertain future.

He _had_ to love her.

Out of all of the young women he encountered in his life, from his home in Munich and as an enlisted man traveling across Europe, it _had_ to be her.

And she _had_ to be so profoundly affected by all of it; by him.

Shosanna sighed.

She was not unhappy with this turn of events, of having survived that night, of being in this little inn, and laying beside Fredrick Zoller; a part of her, however, would always long to awake one morning in _her_ bed, in _her_ home, with _her_ family. She wanted to be able to find herself at the head of that familiar staircase, to come downstairs and find her mother and father in the kitchen reading the newspaper; to find her Uncle Bob, reading that month's issue of _Photoplay_ and to find her brother Amos, already distracted with the excitement of what was to come that day, playing with his porridge rather than eating it.

It was mundane at times, with her little brother being obnoxious as little brothers were prone to be and she would be at odds with her mother over the most miniscule details like teenagers do, but it was _her_ life, _her_ family, and she yearned to have it back. Shosanna suffered the irrevocable loss every waking minute and was not even afforded the luxury of being able to forget for a few hours each night.

Amos would be twelve by now. Uncle Bob would have most likely married that lovely bookstore owner, Judith.

_She is most likely gone now, too._

And her parents would have continued to be happily married, and no matter where Shosanna would be at this point in her life - if their lives all remained untouched - would still love her.

_If they had not been ripped away_, she wondered, _then would I have ever come to know Fredrick?_

Shosanna knew that in all likelihood that she would not; he would become the German War Hero and Film Star and she would be miles away, having never come across Madame Mimieux, Marcel, and _Le Gamaar_. Without their chance meeting and her intervention, the war would rage on until, perhaps, the Allies would rise up and topple the War Machine; and Fredrick, War Criminal, would be killed. The Jewish Girl would live on, the young German War Hero would be dead and she would not mourn the loss; her heart would not break.

Still, she could not help but ponder the two of them meeting. He would know her, _love_ her, as Shosanna Dreyfus. It would be a gradual courtship, consisting of dates to see the newest films from Danielle Darrieux and Humphrey Bogart; holding hands and stealing glances in the dark, with each evening ending with a kiss on the cheek. Then, one night, Shosanna would gather the collar of Fredrick's perfectly pressed dress shirt - _such a polite, presentable young man_ - into her hands, pulling him down to her level, and she would close her mouth over his. Upon breaking the kiss, they would both be left wanting for everything the other could give, and they would take of it, freely. Fredrick's well-groomed hair would be mussed, his shirt rumpled and unbuttoned, his belt hanging loose and his slacks undone. Shosanna's modest dress would be open and pooled at her waist, the skirt of it pushed up and gathered around her hips; one leg hitched up and around him, urging his body on and into her as one of Fredrick's hands grasped her hip and the other hand cradled the back of her head, her name on his lips and panted into her ear,

_Shosanna, Shosanna…_

Shortly after that night, Fredrick would meet her family. His nerves would get the better of him, and he'd run a hand through his hair as he gave them a crooked smile. Her parents would greet Fredrick warmly, taking him into their arms, embracing him as if he were one of them; immediately, they would adore the young man who loved their daughter so.

Shosanna would meet the sisters who dearly loved their baby brother; she would find herself underneath the scrutinizing eye of the oldest, Helga. The oldest Zoller would then give Shosanna that smile that ran in the family, and the rest of the sisters would follow suit, for they could easily welcome into their lives the young woman who loved their brother so.

Their families, the Dreyfuses and the Zollers, would be united harmoniously and lovingly. Shosanna and Fredrick would have their happy-ever-after, just as their childhood storybooks had promised.

_Such a thing is still possible,_ she reasoned.

After all, the two of them had come this far.

It was early morning, about five a.m., from her estimation; estimating such things was part of her survival and had become a second nature.

_Survive_.

Surviving was all Shosanna had been able to do, day after day; what else was there for her, but to survive?

_Vengeance_.

He had changed all of that, showing up that night, emerging from the shadows and smiling brightly like a beacon and offering her the gift of her revenge in his hands; the only strings attached were the ones to his heart.

Curling back into Fredrick's side, Shosanna relaxed against him, taking in his features as he slept. He appeared even more boyishly sweet when at rest, a beatific smile upon his lips, his unruly hair brushed out of his eyes; eyes lined with dark lashes. Her eyes trailed down to the contours of his body and fixated on the rise and fall of his chest. Though covered with a sheet, the power and strength of him could not be obscured. For as open and honest as Fredrick was with Shosanna, he was difficult for her to figure out. Fredrick was a boy, yet also a man; an innocent and a killer.

_And he loves me._

Huddling closer, she took in the scent of him. He smelled of testosterone and faintly of cologne; remnants of the night before. Shosanna envisioned Fredrick as he prepared for the premiere, a bundle of raw nerves and excitement over what was to come as he fretted over every detail of his appearance. He intended to leave it all behind and he wanted her to join him. All Fredrick wanted was to return to his life as it was before this war began, before it destroyed families and forced boys such as he into being men. All Fredrick wanted was to carry on his life, as it was, uninterrupted, and he wanted to share it with Emmanuelle.

He still wanted the same of Shosanna.

He still wanted her.

He still loved her.

Pulling herself even closer, Shosanna nuzzled Fredrick's cheek and neck, noticing the feel, the contrast, of newly grown stubble and his boyish face. Breathing out against his skin, she watched as he stirred, and how, fast asleep, Fredrick's head turned to the side, facing her. Shosanna knew that in that moment, she could initiate whatever she desired to; to rip the sheet and the thin barriers of clothing from their bodies and straddle Fredrick, to finally feel what her mind, her body, wondered about and wandered to when she was alone in bed, when she was with Marcel.

But Shosanna could not.

Not just yet.

Being there with him was more than enough. Her body pressed tightly to his and her mouth mere centimeters from his, Shosanna's eyes fluttered closed, every detail of his peaceful face committed to memory.

* * *

It was eight a.m. when Fredrick awoke, with Shosanna nestled against him. He _almost_ could have mistaken it all for a dream if it were not for the weight of her body, her soft breathing, and the restful beating of her heart. It was almost too much for Fredrick to bear; it was far too perfect, far too beautiful to be true.

And yet, it was.

Against all odds, they had survived. Out of a theater of over three-hundred people, it was the Jewish Girl and the German War Hero who survived that night, guided by both fate and each other.

Fredrick's chest tightened as he took in the sight of her: In the light of the morning sun, Shosanna was positively luminous; her pale skin practically glowed, and her hair, though pinned up, was a golden halo. And her lips - which had been briefly and stunningly pressed against his last night - stained rose from her lipstick, were inviting.

Shosanna was breath-taking as she approached him in that dress - that red dress which fit her like a second skin - her green eyes burning into him, piercing through to him, even under the cover of the veil.

Directing his eyes to the ceiling, Fredrick sighed and swore under his breath in German. He found himself inconveniently - though not uncomfortably - aroused from having Shosanna in such an intimate proximity to him. Carefully and reluctantly, Fredrick drew back from Shosanna, mindful not to wake her. Before excusing himself to the bathroom, Fredrick allowed himself one last admiring look at her sleek, sleeping form, which only served to worsen his current situation.

* * *

With warm sunlight pouring over her, Shosanna woke up to find herself in an empty bed. Sitting up, she turned to look over her shoulder to see that the bathroom door was closed, and she could hear Fredrick humming to himself. Laying back, Shosanna closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and stretched; as she exhaled, her body relieved itself of its tension.

_Almost_ all of it.

Opening her eyes, Shosanna found herself gazing up at Fredrick, who now stood awkwardly beside the bed. Clad in his dress shirt and slacks from what was left of his uniform, Fredrick was now clean-shaven, his hair neatly styled, save for those rogue forelocks. She did not even hear him re-enter the room, as he was still being conscientious of the fact that she was asleep and did not want to disturb her rest. Now of course, Shosanna was awake and she lay sprawled on the bed, the sheet that once covered her strewn aside, her slip straining tight against every curve of her body, the skirt hiked up, exposing much of her thighs. She knew she should have felt embarrassed and that a sense of modesty should have taken over, that she should have made every attempt to cover herself, to apologize to Fredrick in earnest and excuse herself to the bathroom to collect herself; but she did not.

Instead, Shosanna slowly sat up, dangling her legs off the bedside; a strap of her slip dropping down her shoulder, revealing a little more of the top of her breast and a tendril of hair falling loose from the confines of her hair pins. She then locked eyes with Fredrick, watching him with both curiosity and expectancy. But as his hair fell into his face - which he tried in vain to keep in place - and as he clutched at his hands, she could sense his uncertainty at what she could be getting at; but Shosanna could also sense that though Fredrick's intentions were pure, his desires were not. It was not fair, they both knew, as they were constantly engaging each other in a nearly dangerous seduction - a game of chase and retreat - ever since meeting that June night in front of _Le Gamaar_. Though both were fully aware that neither was yet ready for a consummation, they did not have to approach each other with such extremes, either. Pushing herself off of the bed - her eyes on Fredrick all the while - Shosanna stood before him, her posture indicating her own uncertainty at what was to become of them.

Without apprehension, but with consideration, Fredrick reached out a hand, and skimming his fingertips along the flesh of her arm with great relish, he re-adjusted the strap of her slip, sliding it back in place on her shoulder. Gasping at the contact, Shosanna kept her eyes trained on his face, which was set in concentration. Without pause, Fredrick trailed his hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, and up the length of her elegantly long neck to brush the tendril of hair back behind her ear, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand as he did so. Leaving her sensitive skin fevered, a shiver coursed through Shosanna, and her breath hitched. In response, carefully, he brought his hand up to cup the side of her face.

A charged silence fell over them.

Wordlessly, her eyes pleaded, even _dared_ Fredrick to continue.

Tilting his head to the side, Fredrick observed her, gauging her reactions to his touches.

Not wanting to deny her - or himself - Fredrick carried on, delicately tracing the exquisite contours of her face. Every touch was deliberate as over and over, Fredrick caressed every curve, every angle, memorizing her every feature; he was exceedingly gentle, yet it was enough to leave Shosanna wide-eyed and trembling. Unrelenting in his tenderness, Fredrick placed his other hand on the small of her back, ever so lightly, and closed the space between them. Both could hear the thundering of each other's hearts, and Shosanna could feel his hardness against her. They knew they were not quite ready for that next step, yet neither would resist if it were to happen; knowing this served to both frighten and further arouse them.

Placing his hand underneath her chin, Fredrick tipped Shosanna's head up, granting him better access to her mouth. Her breath halted and she quaked with anticipation as he ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, applying the smallest bit of pressure. Then, reaching his hand behind her head, cradling it, Fredrick brought his mouth down to meet hers. Their lips brushed together and time stood still as they savored the feel and heat of the other. Though the kiss was slight, it was not chaste. Within the contact was a certain power, an intensity; passionate and consuming, it threatened to overwhelm them. Shosanna reached her hands up, and fisting them into the material of his dress shirt, she sighed against his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, Fredrick moved his hands up to cup her face. Meeting each other's gaze, Shosanna opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but no words came. There was much she had to say, but the words were not sufficient. Fredrick understood, and in an act of absolution, he placed a kiss upon her forehead; closing her eyes, Shosanna softened into him. His lips against her skin now forming into a smile, Fredrick wrapped his arms around her, drawing Shosanna into a warm embrace. Easing into him further, she reciprocated, burying her face into his chest.

In that moment, words proved unnecessary; a hindrance. Though there was still much left to be discussed between them, there was also much better left unsaid.

There they stood, for several minutes, but for what felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, the silence was broken as their door swung open, and there in the doorway, stood Edwige. Even dressed in a flowing, golden, floral-print sundress, she was a formidable force.

Startled, Shosanna and Fredrick broke apart, standing rigidly side-by-side.

With a lit cigarette in one hand, and her other arm wrapped around herself, Edwige looked them both over, a smirk upon her lips. Looking to the young woman,

"Shosanna Dreyfus- "

The older woman then paused to take a drag off her cigarette. Exhaling, she then turned to the young man,

"_Fredrick Zoller_."

His eyes went wide, his blood ran cold, and he immediately felt dizzy.

_Is this how it ends?_

Like the trained soldier that he was, Fredrick composed himself; standing tall, shoulders back, his jaw clenched. Holding his head high, Fredrick stepped forward; he refused to break down, even though internally, he was falling to pieces. Her heart dropping, Shosanna steeled herself and reached for Fredrick's hand, firmly grasping it in her own.

Edwige smiled broadly at them, which only put the couple even more ill-at-ease.

"I merely request the presence of you both to engage with me in a lively discussion about the end of the war. After all, torching the entire Third Reich deserves much commendation."

Shosanna and Fredrick stood stock-still, their expressions frozen in disbelief.

Taking another drag off her cigarette, Edwige's eyes brightened and her smile widened even more,

"I shall also be serving brunch."


	5. I Know Now Fragility

Shosanna and Fredrick found themselves on the third floor of _Le Rossignol_; it was an attic room, which served as Edwige's quarters. It was open, spacious, and decorated with a plethora of charming knick-knacks, antique furniture, and other eccentric pieces; a lifetime of memories confined to a single room. Up here, the three of them - inn proprietor, Jewish Girl and German War Hero - were safely out of sight of prying eyes.

Upon entering her room, Edwige ushered the two to a small, oval table, decorated with a fine lace tablecloth, with a vase at its center, holding a bright array of flowers; there, all three were seated. Beside the table, next to Edwige, was a metal serving cart which held a tea pot, two covered dishes, a bowl of strawberries, and porcelain dining ware.

Beaming at the young couple, she began to set the table in front of them. Uncertain of the woman's intentions and without a word, Shosanna and Fredrick looked on.

"Oh, you _must_ forgive me," Edwige insisted cheerily as she poured them tea, "you see, I hardly ever entertain guests anymore, and certainly not _here_. It's been _ages_, but I could _not_ resist such an occasion."

Shosanna, her body tensing up, gave the woman a strained smile and Fredrick, grasping at his hands underneath the table, averted eye contact. Despite Edwige's now warm demeanor, they were not yet quick to trust her. Even as she generously covered their plates with croissants, finger sandwiches, and fresh fruit, and even as she went on with her one-sided small-talk - smiling brightly all the while - Shosanna and Fredrick remained silent.

Reaching for the metal serving tongs with one hand, and her other now holding a bowl of sugar cubes, the two were given no other option but to acknowledge Edwige as she asked,

"How many?"

It was a simple question, and not at all sinister, yet it made Shosanna as uneasy as being offered strudel. It didn't take much, however, to remind Shosanna that she was no longer fending for her just herself, as she had Fredrick now to consider. Clearing her throat, smile still in place, Shosanna answered,

"Two."

Pleased with this - and herself - Edwige complied. Directing her attention to Fredrick, the young man spoke up,

"Four."

Smirking playfully as she dropped the sugar cubes into his cup,

"You like a little tea with your sugar?"

Relaxing a little, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly, he gave a small shrug.

Easing back into her chair, Edwige tended to her own tea, observing the two as she did so. Their interactions intrigued her from the moment they stepped foot in _Le Rossignol_; it was the way in which they carried themselves around each other, the way the young man looked upon the young woman with complete reverence; with love. Though the young woman attempted to mask it, it was clear to Edwige that she felt the same for him. Most of all, there was a mutual trust, a protectiveness between them. And of course, there was the embrace the two were locked in that Edwige had interrupted; it spoke _volumes_ to her.

There was something so insular about the two of them; when around each other, there was nothing else, no one else. Looking on, Edwige watched as Shosanna offered Fredrick a small smile. Returning it, he reached his hand over to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face, allowing his hand to come to a rest on her shoulder - very briefly - before smiling shyly and stirring his tea. There was such an ease, a solace there; she felt like an intruder coming upon the most intimate of moments, and Edwige knew that getting to the bottom of this situation would take a delicate hand. But alas, there was not enough time for that.

Bringing the teacup to her lips, the older woman mused aloud,

"So the little Nazi War Hero has a heart of gold after all."

A pall of silence fell over the table.

Neither the young man nor the young woman even endeavored to keep up appearances. Fredrick's face fell, and his shoulders slumped as he absolutely withered; withdrawing into himself, he pulled away from Shosanna. In response, Shosanna's posture stiffened; squaring her shoulders, she held her head high, and clenching her jaw, she met Edwige's line of sight. Taking a sip of tea, the older woman placed the cup back to the saucer.

The younger woman's large, green eyes were even wider and glistening, her hands on the table were balled tightly into fists; her knuckles turning white. Edwige brought her elbows to the table and rested her chin on her now clasped hands, a thoughtful look on her face. After a few more moments of uncomfortable stillness, she finally broke through it, her voice calm and flat,

"I will have you two know that I am not a cruel woman. _However_, I must inform you, young man - "

Edwige gave pause, allowing him to compose himself.

Fredrick straightened and raised his face to meet hers, but not before glancing over at Shosanna, who had now taken his hand into her own on the table, interlacing their fingers.

"- this young woman, though we do not share the same faith, we share the same country; the same country which _you_ and _your_ fellow countrymen have subjugated for over five years."

Sitting up, Edwige brought her hands to rest in her lap before further explaining herself,

"But, that was all brought to an end last night, unwittingly because of _you_, this young woman, _Shosanna Dreyfus_, and thanks in large part, to a covert operation plotted and carried out by our Allies."

Allowing for this to sink in, Edwige took another sip of her tea, as Shosanna and Fredrick looked on in near disbelief. She had been nothing but curt and vague with them previously; now the two of them wanted nothing more than for Edwige to continue.

Sitting back, she brought a hand to her chin in contemplation,

"The first go-around, you'd have thought we had all learned our lesson…"

Voice trailing off, Edwige noticeably softened as she turned to face a portrait hanging on the wall opposite them; it was of a young man, with the same golden hair, steely eyes, and fair features.

"…1.4 million dead. _The War to Preserve Civilisation_, they called it."

Looking away from the portrait, Edwige snorted. Bringing her concentration back to the young couple, she pressed on, voice wavering,

"Raoul. My brother. He _was_ my brother. He was wounded terribly; injured his hip, walked with a limp. He was in constant, excruciating _pain_. Nothing, not even the medals he was awarded, could dull it. He killed himself, not long after returning home."

Edwige then closed her eyes, taking a moment to gather herself. Looking to Shosanna and Fredrick once more, they could see her eyes tearing up; she made no effort to hide it.

"And _that_ was just the physical pain. His nights were plagued with horrific dreams, visions. To hear him sobbing was heart-wrenching, as there was nothing, _nothing_ we could do to ease his suffering."

A small shudder of recognition passed through Fredrick, causing him to swallow hard; noticing this, Shosanna gave his hand a re-assuring squeeze. Taking note of their exchange, Edwige gave a nod of her head, her voice hardening,

"You've seen the war memorials littered throughout the country. You _know_ the devastation. We shall forever be living in the shadows of war, if we keep on murdering our children."

Edwige then sighed.

"You two aren't the only young couple I know of trying to survive this, as unfortunate as that is for me to say."

Shosanna's brows knitted together, her expression quizzical. Shrugging, and with grin, Edwige perked up,

"You see, I work with the Resistance. _Le Rossignol_ serves as a meeting place for their liaisons, a conduit of information. As a woman of my age, I do everything in my power to see to it that history does not repeat itself."

Shosanna went slack.

Edwige could not help but laugh.

"My dear, the Underground is currently quite aware, and details are passing through as soon as they're available. _You_ are a _heroine_; a _tragic_ heroine, but a heroine nonetheless. But of course, to them, you're also _dead_."

Picking up a strawberry, she took a bite before going on.

"It would be in your best interest to remain that way - "

Stopping, Edwige looked to Fredrick,

"- _especially_ you. Though I can see you're just like any other young man caught in the crossfire, to _them_, you are a _war criminal_, a _menace_. And if they find you, they will _not_ hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes."

Leaning over to Fredrick, Shosanna whispered to him, soothing the young man with comforting words and actions as she gripped his hand even tighter and brushed her lips against his cheek.

She was nearly hesitant, but Edwige had to keep on,

"And _you_, Shosanna, if they knew you were with him, they too, would not hesitate to punish you. They would so easily forget your hand in ending the war, for, as they would see it, aiding the enemy. I am afraid to say that you are both a danger to each other."

Fredrick now wrapped an arm around Shosanna and kissed the top of her head. His expression was stoic, but his eyes were welling up; Fredrick was _terrified_.

Seeking to defuse any panic, Edwige interjected,

"_The enemy of my enemy is my friend_, which I find agreeable with you, Fredrick. I want you both to know that I am your ally. Allow me to help you, and I will see to it that you get out of here alive."

Stunned, Fredrick and Shosanna could barely speak. She looked to him, and wordlessly, he gave his consent. Turning to Edwige, Shosanna fervently nodded her head forcing out an excitable,

"_Oui_."

Smiling broadly, Edwige clapped her hands together.

"_Excellent_. Now, I hate to act like a mother, but shall we now enjoy our meal? I don't want any of this going to waste."

They finished eating in near silence, yet the mood was not disagreeable; having run on nothing but adrenaline through most of the previous evening, Shosanna and Fredrick had almost forgotten how hungry they were. Edwige _could_ have been annoyed with herself for accommodating yet another pair of war-torn lovers, but as she watched them, a smile came to her lips.

* * *

Shosanna ran her hands over the skirt of the dress as she assessed her appearance in the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Fredrick stood to the side, leaning against a dresser, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You look beautiful."

The dress was one of Genvieve's, which Edwige chose from a rack of clothes neither sister wore too often. It was a light green, with a floral pattern comprised of complementary colors with short sleeves, a scoop neck, and it belted at the waist. The skirt of it came down to the middle of Shosanna's calves - Genevieve was quite a bit taller than her - but the cut of the dress clung to her in all of the right places, and the shades of green, golds, and pale blues were extremely flattering to Shosanna's coloring. To complete the look, Edwige even gave her a pair of hand-crafted sandals with a low heel. Sliding her hands into the pockets on the skirt, Shosanna tilted her head to the side, her eyes carefully on her reflection.

"I could be wearing a potato-sack and you'd tell me the same exact thing," she commented sardonically.

"Oui," Fredrick confirmed, beaming, "I would."

Facing him sideways, Shosanna smiled back,

"If only I could say the same for you."

In reply, he scrunched his nose in disapproval as Shosanna laughed at him.

_Laughed_.

Catching herself for a moment, Shosanna came to a surprised halt. Her eyes now on Fredrick, they regarded each other with amazement, as this was the first he had heard such a sound from her; it was musical and throaty, and he wanted _more_ of it. Reacting to his expression, she could not hold back her peals of laughter, and neither could he; it was spontaneous, it was genuine, and it felt _wonderful_.

As their reverie died down and their bodies relaxed, the two looked upon each other with a renewed vigor, an entirely new perspective. Collecting himself, Fredrick approached Shosanna and slipped his hand beneath her chin and tipped her head up, causing a grin to spread across her face. Entirely focused on one another and the atmosphere growing electric, Fredrick ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip; he was enamored with her mouth, her lips, and the sensuousness of them.

It was short-lived, as yet again, Edwige cut in.

"I apologize, my dears, but you'll both have enough time to do what you please to each other soon enough. First comes business, _then_ the pleasure."

Placing her hands on her hips and running her eyes over Shosanna, Edwige smiled approvingly, but not without correcting a minor detail. Grasping the young woman by the shoulders, the inn proprietor spun her around and plucked out the hairpins, freeing a cascade of soft, golden curls which spilled over Shosanna's shoulders and magnificently framed her face. Edwige then took her by the hand and led her to a dressing screen, which she covered with a white sheet. Positioning a stool in front of it, she then put her hands on Shosanna's shoulders, forcing her to sit down. Satisfied, Edwige retrieved a camera, a 1939 Argus C3.

"We have quite a bit of history between us - this camera and I - and not once has it ever let me down," she explained.

Taking her position in front of the young woman, Edwige then began to give her instructions.

"_Now_, sit up straight, shoulders back, and _smile_ - "

Out of the corner of her eye, Shosanna could see Fredrick smiling back at her. That damned smile of his had proved to be rather infectious.

" - but not _too_ widely. These are for your identification papers, and no one is _ever_ that thrilled."

* * *

After getting the desired photographs of the two, Edwige handed Shosanna the roll of 35 mm film, along with hand-written instructions, a hand-drawn map of her destination, and a bit of money.

"All you have to do is follow the directions I wrote out for you," Edwige advised, "your destination isn't hard to find; you're a clever girl, you can figure it out. As for the other instructions, there's no need to read them, they're for Simone, along with the roll of film and money."

Shosanna gave a sidelong glance, her expression wary.

"Simone," Edwige clarified, "is one of _my_ allies. She's part of a group, much like the Resistance; you'll know who she is when you see her. Tell her _Molyneux_ and then hand her the film and money. She'll take care of the rest."

Nodding in compliance, Shosanna pocketed the items. But before she could take her leave, Edwige added,

"And if Simone doesn't find the amount enclosed sufficient, do inform her that I will pay her more once I am able to procure more funds. This line of work doesn't come cheap and she understands that."

Concerned, Fredrick broke in,

"Madame? If this can be of any help - "

Pausing, he removed his wristwatch and handed it to Edwige,

" - then _please_, take this."

Even with just a glimpse, she was able to easily determine its worth.

"Oui. It is an exquisite piece of craftsmanship; it will indeed be of great help. Merci, Fredrick."

Shosanna, taken aback by his selflessness,

"Fredrick?"

His manner now serious,

"I _have_ to, Shosanna. For us _both_."

Sensing the shift in mood, Edwige excused herself, leaving the couple to themselves; they barely noticed her absence as their conversation carried on,

"After everything we've been through, neither of us can afford to compromise."

There was a note of desperation in Fredrick's voice.

Shosanna was understanding of this, but it was obvious from the look on her face that she had more questions on her mind; he knew what she was thinking.

"That watch," his voice quiet, "was a present from my sisters."

She appeared apologetic, but Fredrick understood why she would think otherwise; after all, so much else was handed to him on a silver platter, so what was one wristwatch, but another trinket? Before Shosanna could say anything, he reached into his pocket, pulling out what little money he had, and placed it in her hands.

"Use this for whatever you deem necessary."

Shosanna was clearly confused.

"But I thought that - "

She stopped herself; it seemed that Fredrick could be just as clever as she was.

Taking her face in his hands, Fredrick pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Come back safe," he murmured against her.

Looking up at him, Shosanna smiled.

"I _have_ to, Fredrick. For us _both_."

Then, ever so lightly, she kissed him; softly, staggeringly.

* * *

There was a certain tension that could be felt. It was not stifling, nor did it hold the promise of violence; it was a mix of restrained excitement and ambiguity. The citizens of France were eagerly returning to the routine of their lives - a return to normalcy - yet there was expectancy, the anticipation of _something_ more. Resistance members were now more visible, out on the streets, grouped together at cafes, outside storefronts; all were armed, all were on guard. Shosanna forged ahead, posture rigid, hands in pockets, with her face blank and eyes lowered, she was mindful not to make eye-contact with passerby as she carefully sidestepped them. To all the world, Shosanna Dreyfus was dead; life went on, as best it could, without even noticing.

* * *

Without so much as a knock on the door or giving warning, Edwige barged in to find Fredrick stretched out on the bed, wearing a melancholy expression. With a smile, she threw a pair of gray coveralls at him, landing across his midsection. Sitting up, he looked them over, perplexed.

"You have two minutes to put those on," Edwige told him, "I will be waiting in the hallway. You may have to stay out of sight, but you can still be of some assistance to me."

And with that, she exited, closing the door behind her and without giving Fredrick the chance to say a word.

* * *

After cutting through an alleyway and making a turn, Shosanna came upon her destination: a small, unassuming bookstore, _La Page Dorée_. A bit bewildered, she consulted the instructions for confirmation:

_La Page Dorée_

_Backdoor_.

_Knock_.

It all seemed to stupidly easy that Shosanna could have thought of it as a set-up; but in her position - _their position_ - she couldn't afford to be so suspicious.

_Nor should you be so trusting._

Taking a breath, Shosanna cautiously made her way to the back of the building, and raising her fist - teeth clenching, heart racing - she knocked with all of the strength she could muster.

A moment passed.

Panic set in.

Her thoughts were plagued with imagery of Fredrick being taken into custody by the Resistance; armed men storming into their room, killing him without a second thought, without warning, all while under the watchful eye of Edwige.

But just as rapidly as such thoughts came, they went, as the heavy door swung open. There, standing before her, was a stunning, dark skinned woman; tall, willowy, she was dressed all in black - turtleneck and slacks - complete with a black beret, her raven hair flowing down to her shoulders. Her eyes, brown and feline, were fixed upon Shosanna. The Jewish girl wasted no time.

"Simone?"

The dark woman cocked her head to the side, as if appraising Shosanna.

"Oui," she verified.

Producing the roll of film, money, and written instructions from her pocket, she handed them to Simone, her voice firm,

"_Molyneux_."

With a nod of her head, Simone snatched them from her hand, quickly eyeing them over.

"She said that if the payment proved insufficient - "

Simone looked up, silencing Shosanna.

"As long as you give me a little bit of time, there will be no issue."

Shosanna swallowed.

"How much time?"

Simone arched a brow.

"You will still be here come tomorrow, won't you?"

Calming somewhat, Shosanna nodded.

"Oui, I will be."

Reading over the papers, Simone smiled.

"And he, too?"

Shosanna did not hesitate,

"Oui. He, too."

_Always_.

* * *

This was not quite what Fredrick was expecting - helping the inn proprietor re-arrange the furniture in her room - but it was a most welcome distraction. Throughout the process, more and more of the older woman's personality shone through, even if the task at hand reminded him of something his sister Gerda would have him do; but, it was in that familiarity that Fredrick found comfort.

"Now, _this_ trunk was my grandmother's. She was a delightfully eccentric woman in her old age."

Pushing it across the floor, Fredrick found himself entertained by all of the history, the details, of every piece of furniture, every bauble, every memento that Edwige more than willingly divulged.

It made him think of home, of his sisters, of how he longed to be back in Munich, to have Shosanna with him; among them.

As Edwige prattled on, Fredrick could not help but smile.

* * *

Making her way back from _La Page Dorée_, all Shosanna wanted was to return to _Le Rossignol_, to Fredrick. However, as she passed by a men's clothing boutique, Shosanna slowed her stride and came to a stop; with her hands in her pockets, she thumbed over the bills he had given her.

_Whatever is necessary._

Looking over the slacks and dress shirts on display in the storefront window, she knew just what to do with the money.

_And, God willing, there would be enough left over for a pack of cigarettes._

* * *

As she moved a rack of dresses aside, Edwige stilled; Fredrick, busy with an amoire, took notice. Fixated upon a silver beaded evening dress, she spoke, her voice wavering,

"This was from Ada."

Then, looking up at him,

"Madame Mimieux."

Edwige gave a small sigh as she ran her fingertips over the garment.

Not wanting to pry, but his curiosity getting the better of him, Fredrick cleared his throat and asked,

"You and Ada were - ?"

Not even giving him a glance, her attention on the dress, Edwige nodded.

"Oui. Ada and I were lovers."

Nervously, he pushed back his rogue forelocks and looked away.

_"Oh."_

Then, suddenly, the room filled with rich laughter.

"My dear boy," Edwige gasped, "you are so preciously, inoffensively _innocent_."

Sheepishly, Fredrick raised his face, a blush rising to his cheeks, voice stammering,

"I - I did not mean to - "

Edwige continued to laugh, and waved her hand dismissively.

"Non, non, Fredrick, it's no bother at all. It's just that, you have so much to learn about the world; so much to _experience_."

Taking a moment to compose herself, Edwige placed her hands on her hips, her voice more gentle,

"And to think of that - I don't know whether to laugh or to cry."

* * *

Shosanna purchased a new pair of slacks for Fredrick - black and finely tailored - and not knowing his measurements, she had to estimate; fortunately, the clerk was more than patient with her. Along with that, she picked out two dress shirts, one white and the other a light tan. And, luckily, there was just enough for her only personal purchase: a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. They weren't her preferred brand, but Shosanna knew well enough that when fortune smiled down upon one as much as it did to Shosanna and Fredrick, that one takes what they are offered without complaint.

The clothes were folded and wrapped up in a rectangular, burgundy box, which was now tucked beneath her arm. With her free hand, Shosanna placed a cigarette between her lips as she wrangled with the matchbook. She was alert enough to stay out of the way of the other passerby, but her struggle to free a match proved to be a challenge.

_"Merde."_

Distracted, Shosanna collided with another, the box slipping out from under her arm. Straightening herself, Shosanna apologized profusely,

"I am so sorry, I - "

Her voice dropped off.

_Marcel._

It could have been viewed as a coincidence, but for Shosanna, the universe was playing a cruel joke.

Moving fast enough, he was able to catch the box before it could hit the ground; the box which held the clothes she had just bought for Fredrick. She took it from Marcel dumbly, the cigarette dangling from her lips now falling loose.

He was stiff, his voice flat.

_"Shosanna."_

* * *

Taking a break from their work, Fredrick and Edwige sat at the oval table, now at the opposite end of the room, drinking tea and talking. He wanted to know about Ada, about Edwige, and her work with the Resistance. She was more than happy to comply, as she had never had such an attentive audience before.

"Her parents came from Hong Kong. We met when we were both in our twenties, in 1923; it was a bit of a whirlwind and lasted for two years. She was a passionate woman, quite generous."

Refilling her cup, Edwige grinned at Fredrick's reaction, who appeared a bit flustered.

"Of course, I am referring to more than just the physical."

Drinking a sip of tea, she took a moment to herself, a distant look in her eyes.

"She and I remained good friends, but with the mounting political and social unrest followed by the occupation, I saw less and less of her. Ada felt, as a woman of her heritage, it would be easier to stay out of sight, out of mind."

Fredrick was now even more intrigued.

"So what motivated you to get involved?"

"Well, as you can see - " Edwige gestured to herself - "I am certainly not what one of those diseased minds would refer to as an _undesirable_. By not using my position of privilege, how could I have lived with myself? There were others, I knew, who felt the same as I did. Together, we became our own little band of outsiders, assisting the Resistance and others who were fighting for the same cause, those who held the same convictions."

He now leaned in forward, eyes wide and voice filled with awe,

"How did you ever outwit the Gestapo?"

Edwige chuckled.

"I'm of no interest to them; there are prettier young things around here that held their attention."

Then, taking another sip of tea, she gave it a little more thought and a quirk of the lips.

"Besides, they're not as clever as they think they are."

* * *

The two former lovers were now at odds with each other.

Her voice was weak.

"How did you survive?"

His was not.

"The same as you."

There was nowhere private left for them to speak, and so now, the former projectionist and theater proprietor were seated on the patio of a cafe; neither touching the tea in front of them.

Marcel was resolute.

"I saw you with him."

Her head dizzy, Shosanna raised her shaking hand and took a drag from her cigarette. She was aware that words were insufficient.

Marcel was steadfast.

"Do you love him?"

His voice did not hold anger as much as it did hurt, and, to a certain degree, resignation.

She knew that any attempt to argue would be futile. She would let him have this; he had a right to his emotions.

Her voice clear, yet faltering, Shosanna strained to make eye contact.

"Marcel, it is nothing to do with you. It's complicated, it's - "

He was now incredulous, his voice growing louder,

"Nothing to do with me? After all I had done for you? Everything we had planned? All we've been through? You leave _me_ for _him_ and you tell me it has nothing to do with me?"

Shosanna wanted - _needed_ - to rectify the situation and Marcel needed to know the truth.

_He deserves that much._

"I could not have ever anticipated any of this, Marcel. It was his love of cinema that drew him to me, and oui, an initial attraction, but there was _something_ more to it. Did you know that he has family back in Munich? That they run a theater of their own? Did you know that I remind him of his oldest sister, Helga? That he _liked_ the fact that I did not know of his status, his fame?"

Marcel was not quite following, but he was listening; he was always willing to offer her that much.

Emboldened, her hands clutching at the burgundy box in her lap, Shosanna moved forward in her seat.

"You see, Marcel, you and the rest of the public did not know. No one knew, except me. I am the only one he trusted enough to be so open with; to be himself. And when it came down to it, I _couldn't_ kill him, not after all of that; not after knowing all that I knew. I realized, all too suddenly, that I - "

As the force of it all hit her, Shosanna slumped back.

She could not acknowledge it, not yet.

But it was evident in her body language, it was present within her eyes.

"It was gradual, though unexpected. I suppose the turning point was the moment I understood I could trust him, and that he was willing to risk everything, all for my sake."

Shosanna sighed and ground out her cigarette into the smooth, polished surface of the table, marring it with ash.

Marcel too, fell silent; defeated.

Reaching for her pack of cigarettes, Shosanna offered him one.

He accepted.

* * *

Fredrick was thoroughly impressed with Edwige, though it was evident that he had _something_ on his mind.

"How was it, then, do you think Shosanna was led here?"

A small smile came to Edwige's lips as a look of fond recollection came over her.

"To many, Ada was a cold and harsh woman, when the truth was that she was anything but. That fact is apparent to me, to you, and especially to Shosanna. As I began my work with the Resistance, Ada was withdrawing herself from this world, trading it in for the lull of escapism. Before we regrettably lost touch with one another, I made certain to let her know that _Le Rossignol_ was open for all who sought its sanctuary. Though she remained apolitical out of fear, it seems that Ada still saw fit to do her part."

Now wistful, she chose her words with consideration.

"There exists in this world, a certain type of person, Fredrick. Someone who lives their entire life guarded, building barriers. For one reason or another, the universe sees to it that we cross paths with such people. Now, being able to know such a person can be difficult, even trying, as they put their trust in a very select few."

Folding her hands on the table, Edwige angled toward Fredrick almost conspiratorially, her tone was reflective,

"It's not a matter of _breaking_ through to them, it's a matter of them _letting_ you in."

Pulling back in her seat, the two shared a knowing look.

Edwige then stood to clear the table, with Fredrick rising to aid her. Without another word, they went to work cleaning up; an almost imperceptible smile upon the young man's lips.

* * *

The two were now walking down the street, side-by-side; Marcel felt the need - the _want_ - to accompany her back to _Le Rossignol_.

"Can he love Shosanna Dreyfus as he loved Emmanuelle Mimieux?"

He was not intending to be cruel or derisive; he was genuinely concerned.

Shosanna held the box in her arms, close to her chest.

"Oui," her voice was insistent, yet small.

Despite their disquiet, neither could bring themselves to feel any resentment towards one another; there was far too much history between them to disregard.

Their discussion - far from a confrontation - was circular. Marcel would question her, though he was hesitant of her responses, and Shosanna would reply bluntly; this would be followed by a lapse in conversation, only to start all over again. It was like wandering through a fog, leaving them both in a haze.

Coming upon _Le Rossignol_, they found themselves at an impasse.

Shosanna now looked to Marcel, her eyes trained on his.

"I was so very willing to sacrifice _everything_, to _destroy_ myself, if necessary. I am just now finally seeing the value of life, even in the face of adversity, of tragedy."

Hugging the box tighter to herself, her voice came out as a plea,

"I am not asking that you forgive me, I am not seeking absolution. But whether you believe me or not, I want you to know - in all honesty - that I would not have made it this far without you. _He_ gave me my revenge, but _you_ were there with me to see it through. A part of me will always love you, Marcel; you _must_ know that."

With a mournful expression, he brought his hands up to cradle her face, his voice tremulous,

"Oui, Shosanna."

She tried to muster a smile, but could not. Timidly, she wondered,

"What now?"

For the last time, Marcel gave Shosanna a smile, albeit forlornly. He answered her, with finality,

"We live our lives."

He then withdrew from her, simply bidding her,

"Adieu."

Shosanna stood motionless, watching Marcel until he disappeared from sight.

At long last, she too, was able to turn away; to face all that awaited her.

* * *

In a daze, Shosanna made her way back to the room she shared with Fredrick. Her hand on the doorknob, she pled with herself not to come undone. Hastily, she entered the room, closing the door behind her, ready to face him; upon doing so, Shosanna's breath caught in her throat.

Fredrick stood beside the bed, his back to her. He was barefoot and wore only his uniform slacks and white undershirt; the shirt which so strikingly showcased his broad shoulders, the curves of his biceps, and nearly every hard line of his torso. As Fredrick turned to her, his face lit up.

_"Shosanna."_

The adoration he held within her name unraveled her; there was a joyous relief behind it, a _desire_.

He smelled vaguely of sweat, his hair was tousled, and in his hands were a pair of coveralls. Looking down at them, then back at her, Fredrick gave a smile and an explanation,

"Madame Molyneux required a bit of help with the re-arranging of _every_ piece of furniture in her room. And…"

His voice trailed off, and with a shrug, he modestly added,

"…I was the only one physically capable of stepping up to the task."

Shosanna, still unmoving, could not find her voice. Fredrick, fortunately, was more than happy to carry on,

"I was getting ready to have a bath just as you came in, because, as you can see, I'm a bit of a mess. You might not want to get too close, but - "

He then bent forward, brushing his lips over her cheek.

" - I am not certain _I_ am able to resist," Fredrick finished, the warmth of his breath against her skin sending a shiver down Shosanna's back. Her mind screaming for a reprieve, she forced space between them and braced herself.

Bewildered, Fredrick looked her over, a trace of hurt in his eyes; he did not understand. Keeping him back at arms length, Shosanna offered him the burgundy box; Fredrick readily accepted it. Standing sideways at the bed, he took care with opening the box, his eyes marveling at what she had brought him.

Recovering, Fredrick half-smiled.

"I trust then, that everything went well?"

Arms crossed over her chest, Shosanna nodded, managing a simple,

"Oui."

_Something_ was amiss.

"Shosanna?"

Her mouth set in a thin line and jaw clenched, she was unresponsive; her eyes were to the floorboards.

Brows stitched together, Fredrick kept his distance and tried once more, his voice bolder, urgent,

_"Shosanna?"_

Her body sinking back against the door, she brought her hands up to her face, and then pushed them back up into her hair. Shosanna declared wearily,

"I am exhausted."

Bringing his body to rest against the bed post, his hands in his pockets, Fredrick gave a sigh.

"It has not been easy for any of us, Shosanna."

Her arms fell limp at her sides, and pulling her eyes to the ceiling, Shosanna's voice came out in a near sob,

"I figured that I could live through the pain; I could drift in and out of each day living by a structured, precise routine. I had my shelter and someone who cared for me. It was as safe and as normal as I could pretend to be. It was no way to live, but it was tolerable."

He did not entirely comprehend, but he wanted to make sense of it. His voice was small, cracked,

"What do you mean?"

Straightening herself, Shosanna squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth with her hand, trying to piece herself together. Regaining control of herself – just barely - she clasped her hands in front of herself and looked to him.

"On my way back here, I had a run-in with Marcel."

Concerned, Fredrick now stood tall, his brow creased.

"Your projectionist?"

She was now barely keeping her composure.

"Oui. He was also my lover."

Fredrick was rendered speechless, but Shosanna was unrelenting,

"He was the only man I loved, the only person I trusted."

Even though his heart was breaking, she persevered, an edge to her voice,

"But you _ruined_ it; you ruined it with your good nature and your charm. You _had_ to be so open and kind to me, you _had_ to tell me all about your sisters in Munich. You _had_ to stand apart from the others. And most of all, you _had_ to love me."

His body sagging, Fredrick sat down on the bed. Clutching at his hands, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Tell me now," he begged of her earnestly, "where is my fault in loving you?"

Eliminating the space she put between them, Shosanna now stood before Fredrick; her arms at her sides, her hands in fists. Even as her body trembled, she spoke with determination.

"My family and I were forced from our home, our farm, and into hiding. My entire family was murdered; I bore witness to it. Only through what I can attribute to divine intervention did I survive, making my way to Paris. I stole, I begged, and I lied; I slept on rooftops. By the time you were in that bell-tower in Italy, I had lost Madame Mimieux and I was living my life as Emmanuelle Mimieux. During that time, the anguish I had felt had dulled, the nightmares faded."

Shosanna took in a breath, her resolve weakening and her voice quaking,

"_You_ made me realize that everything I tried so hard in vain to bury was still there, still sharp; every desire, all of the sorrow, the overwhelming rage. And now, Fredrick, I am _terrified_. I am terrified because I don't know what's going to happen next. I am terrified of what I _feel_."

She then came closer, taking his face in her hands.

"It was that moment in the restaurant," Shosanna's voice was soft, awed as she recalled the memory, "that was when I knew I could trust you. That was the beginning… of everything."

The way she looked up to him that day - her wide eyes _pleading_ with him - was always there, in the back of his mind. Fredrick had immediately sensed her discomfort, her distress, as Landa was a man who was particularly adept at putting people ill-at-ease; but to now make the connection between the Jew Hunter and Shosanna made his heart sink.

"I - I am sorry, Shosanna," Fredrick apologized, his voice choked with emotion, "if only I had known. I would have - "

Gently, she pressed her fingertips against his lips, silencing him.

"You gave me my revenge."

Bending forward, Shosanna then replaced her fingertips with her mouth, kissing him. Fredrick rested his hands on her waist and gripped momentarily, fracturing her attention. He then glided down to her hips, pulling her as close to him as possible; in return, Shosanna eased her body against his. Putting one hand on his shoulder for leverage, she cradled the back of his head with the other, deepening their kiss; Shosanna covered Fredrick's mouth with hers, filling it with her tongue, sliding it over his.

Their senses heightened as they remained entirely focused on the other, both amazed by each other and the fact their emotions could so completely engulf them. One fact registered clearly for Shosanna: she offered, and he was taking. It seemed apparent, however, that nothing could ever be enough for them, that they would always want, _need_ everything from the other.

Both were in complete agreement of this.

Reassured he was taking the road she'd wish to take, Fredrick brazenly grasped her thigh with one hand and with the other cupping her ass, he lifted her up; with Shosanna pushing against him, they fell back on the bed. She then drew back from the kiss, and looking into his eyes, she studied his face. Shosanna could see the anticipation; Fredrick, too, could read her thoughts so easily, could see the flare of expectation that flamed in her eyes.

Shosanna settled back down onto him, claiming his mouth with hers once more, tracing her fingers over his chest, feeling the flesh through the thin cotton barrier, and feeling the muscle shifting beneath her touch. Fredrick's hands drifted lower, to the skirt of her dress, and drew it up to her hips, his fingertips skimming the bare flesh of her thighs along the way. Shosanna trailed kisses along his jaw line as she pressed her body tighter to him, relishing the feel of his hardness against her.

She wanted him, and he wanted her. That seemed totally right.

As she nuzzled his neck, Fredrick whispered against her skin,

_"Je t'aime, Shosanna."_

She stilled in his arms.

There was an abrupt change in mood, as the time for such things had now passed.

Shutting his eyes, Fredrick took in a harsh breath.

He knew Shosanna was not yet ready to even say the words, but he could no longer hold back.

Relaxing, she laid her head on his chest as Fredrick wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him.

Then, ever so faintly, he _felt_ it; he felt as Shosanna smiled against him. She then drew back from Fredrick - he had to let her - and propped herself up on his chest with her elbows. From beneath her long lashes, Shosanna met his gaze; one glance at her face and at the expression which lit her eyes, and he was lost.

Words were not necessary.

Grasping his face in her hands, Shosanna kissed him ardently; she sank into his mouth and his lips parted, welcomed. She stretched her body over his, her thighs on either side of Fredrick, pinning him to the mattress. He threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head, with his other hand pressing palm flat on her lower back.

For long moments, Shosanna simply indulged, reveling in Fredrick's clear encouragement, in the honest passion that was so much a part of him. It was demanding, tender, and deliberate. There was no haste in their contact, no dire need for a physical desire to be fulfilled; it was just the want, the _need_ for emotional intimacy.

They were all that the other wanted, all that they could ever need, and all that they had left.

It was more than enough.


	6. Two Worlds Apart and Two Together

With trembling hands, he took hold of the rifle, and with it, he took aim. There was no finesse, no grace to his actions; only fear.

Fredrick Zoller did not belong in that bell tower; he did not belong in Italy.

Fredrick Zoller belonged back home in Munich with his sisters, tending to mundane chores, tucked away in the projection booth of _Das Kino Haus_.

From his distance, he held no biases. There was no demarcation line between the Allied men and him (_Nazi_); they had no discernable features. They were merely _there_, and he was _here_.

Fredrick Zoller did not want to die.

Fredrick Zoller did not want to kill.

But they kept on coming; coming at _him_.

Palms slick with sweat and his chest constricting, Fredrick set his jaw. He thought of home. He thought of his sisters.

And so he gave them the best that he had. He pulled the trigger.

* * *

Fredrick awoke with a start, his senses alert. Feeling the weight of Shosanna, her body curled into his, her face nestled in his chest and her arm draped across him, Fredrick quickly became aware of his surroundings and relaxed. The room was cooler, dimmer; even with the absence of his wristwatch, Fredrick was able to deduce that it was early evening. Craning his neck, he raised his head to glance over the room; though nothing had changed in the time he was asleep, it helped put his mind at ease. Beside the bed lay the burgundy box. It was half-crushed, its neatly folded contents spilling out onto the floor. Laying his head back, Fredrick smiled.

His only concern was for Shosanna.

_Amos_.

She had a brother named Amos.

_Amos Dreyfus_.

He was murdered by Hans Landa.

Shosanna risked everything to burn down _Le Gamaar_, to kill Landa and all of the others Fredrick associated with; all of those held accountable for her torment.

There was still so much left to be said, still so much that had to be done between them. But here, now, they were granted their bit of mercy, their solace. A comfortable silence permeated the room; within its confines, they were safe.

_For now_.

His chest tightening, Fredrick wrapped an arm around Shosanna, holding her securely to him. He quietly sighed, watching as she moved with the rise and fall of his chest. Mindful not to wake her, yet not able to resist, he reached his hand up and brushed strands of hair from the side of her face, revealing the crescent-shaped scar above her left cheekbone.

_A remnant of her ordeal?_

Considerately, he ran his thumb over it, his mind conjuring up violent imaginings to explain its origins; he thought of her frightened and bloodied, hunted like an animal, her family brutally ripped away from her.

_Did she look into the eyes of the man responsible?_

Though it was all over now, the scars still remained.

_Did she run and not look back?_

Shosanna stirred slightly from the contact, and he withdrew his hand.

She was absolutely precious to him.

Wanting to sob, Fredrick squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

His thundering heartbeat and the blood pounding in his ears were deafening, but they could not blot out the mangled cries rising up to meet him from below. Even if he could not make out their contorted faces and pained expressions, he could still see so clearly their broken, bloodied bodies. One after another, he brought them down, stopping each one in their paths.

He wanted to be sick.

He wanted to weep.

But he could not stop.

* * *

Fredrick woke once more, finding himself twisted in the bed sheets. Disoriented, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Evening had passed into night; the room was darkened and now softly lit by a combination of both the small oil lamp on the nightstand and the moonlight trickling in through the windows. Crouched on the floor a few feet in front of him was Shosanna, her back to him. Clearing his throat, Fredrick broke the silence.

"Shosanna?"

Turning to face him, he could see at her feet a covered serving tray and a tall, cylindrical candle in her hands. Lighting the candle with the cigarette between her lips, Shosanna placed it on the floor in front of her and then straightened. Plucking the cigarette from her mouth - _held between those long, tapered fingers_ - Shosanna smiled at him. Disentangling himself, Fredrick rose to meet her as she explained herself.

"Edwige brought us dinner a little while ago - " with her hand holding the cigarette, she motioned to the covered tray - "and neither of us wanted to wake you as you were so exhausted…"

Her voice trailed off as he closed the gap between them. _Something_ in his dark eyes caught Shosanna off guard, if only briefly. Taking a drag - _his eyes drawn to her lips_ - she finished,

"…so I thought that while you slept, I would do something lovely for us both; to surprise you when you'd wake up."

Taking her face into his hands, Fredrick bent forward, and tipping her head up, he covered her mouth with his own, lightly kissing Shosanna. Just as she eased into it, just as he slid his tongue along her lower lip, threatening to deepen the kiss, he broke the contact and smiled against her mouth,

"Merci, Shosanna."

Fredrick then side-stepped her and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, he looked up at Shosanna expectantly, his beaming face illuminated by the candlelight. Though she exaggeratedly rolled her eyes at him, she was relieved that Fredrick was back to his playful nature, considering the events that took place that day. Taking her seat across from him, Shosanna ground out her cigarette; reaching for the tray cover, she removed it with flourish, revealing two plates full of vegetables and small portions of chicken. What caught their eye, however, was the inclusion of an unopened bottle of red wine and two glasses. With a raise of her eyebrows and a quirk of her lips, Shosanna handed Fredrick a glass with one hand, and taking the corkscrew in the other, she set to the task of opening the bottle. He watched her in silence as she at first struggled with the bottle, and then freed the cork.

As Shosanna poured the wine, her eyes met his, and her breath nearly caught in her throat. His face was lit with a striking contrast of light and shadow from the flickering candle, highlighting his features brilliantly; upon his lips was a faint smile. Fredrick was - as she was all too aware - terribly taken with her. In the soft lighting, he found her to be luminous; the golden color of her hair, the warm tones in her pale skin, her large eyes and bone structure - all were stunningly accentuated. He could not help but find himself especially drawn to her mouth; her full and sensual lips.

His smile broadened.

As if she could read his thoughts, Fredrick looked away, his hair falling into his face, which he then futilely attempted to brush back. With a look of bemusement, Shosanna sipped her wine, her eyes never leaving him. Placing the glass beside her, she inhaled and exhaled sharply through her nose, and took on a serious tone.

"Fredrick," she started, cautiously.

He raised his face to meet hers and squared his shoulders.

"Oui, Shosanna?"

She now took care in choosing her words, speaking in an even, calm tone,

"I would very much like for us to talk."

Shosanna could sense his trepidation as Fredrick grasped at his hands.

"What about?"

Shosanna gave a small shrug.

"Anything."

Fredrick pursed his lips, his eyes lowered to the floor.

Taking another breath, she clarified,

"Anything you feel comfortable with."

His grip on his hands loosening, Fredrick raised his head, and gave his cooperation.

"Oui, Shosanna."

With the scale now tipped in her favor, Shosanna raised her eyes to the ceiling in thought. Bracing himself, Fredrick reached for his glass. With a grin, she posed her first question.

"Tell me about your favorite films."

Swallowing a sip of wine, Fredrick cocked his head to the side.

"My favorite films?"

Her grin still in place,

"Oui! Your family owns a theater, do they not?"

Putting the glass down, Fredrick straightened up.

"Oui."

"And considering our first conversation consisted of film, then certainly, you must have some favorites, do you not?"

Fredrick, too, now, was smiling.

"Oui, I do."

Shosanna now leaned forward, her grin widening.

"Tell me."

It did not take much more prying, as Fredrick immediately answered her with great enthusiasm,

"_The Man Who Laughs_ has to be my favorite."

Shosanna was somewhat surprised.

"Conrad Veidt?"

Fredrick nodded.

The more he spoke, the more animated he became.

"Oui. I mean, the film deviates from the Victor Hugo novel, but it works regardless. It's heart-wrenching, yet ultimately uplifting; due to a horrific circumstance, Gwynplaine _might_ have been doomed to a tragic fate, but he would not allow it to. He would not be separated from the woman he loved."

Shosanna was utterly enthralled.

Raising his glass to his lips, Fredrick went on.

"_The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari_ and _The Hands of Orlac_ are also excellent. Veidt was an extraordinary talent."

As he took a sip of his wine, Shosanna smiled, her voice taking on a near conspiratorial tone.

"You know, Fredrick, before meeting you, I was in talks with an individual who was going to look into procuring a copy of _Casablanca_ for me."

The young man almost choked and his eyes widened with disbelief.

"Oh, what I'd give to have seen it!"

Resting her elbows on her knees, Shosanna held her face in her hands and sighed.

"It would have been perfect for us, wouldn't it?"

Clasping his hands, Fredrick sat forward and nodded his head.

"Oui, most certainly. We'll have to make do with living the reality of it, won't we?"

The two grew quieter.

"How did you feel about his blacklisting?"

Fredrick was now straight-faced.

"Horrendous. To not even report of his death, to so blatantly ignore his contributions to German cinema? It is unforgivable."

He then softened, his mouth forming a small smile.

"At least I can voice with pride that he and I both share similar views."

Shosanna now brightened.

"And Marlene, too."

"Oui," he agreed, "Marlene too. Very admirable woman. Though as far as actresses are concerned, I prefer Garbo."

Fredrick's opinions on actresses now piqued her interest.

"Oh?"

"There's something far more natural about her," he reasoned, "something so utterly _fascinating_. She is capable of expressing so much with her face alone. Her performances in _Anna Karenina_ and _The Painted Veil_ are a testament to that fact. Magnificent!"

Shosanna smirked, startling Fredrick out of his musing.

"I would not have figured you for a Garbo fan."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Who, then, would be appropriate for me?"

Shosanna leaned in closer.

"Bridget von Hammersmark?"

Fredrick scoffed.

"_Bridget von Hammersmark_! Though indeed, a talented woman, she is no Garbo."

Laughing at his indignation, Shosanna threw her head back. Thoroughly amused himself, Fredrick joined her in her laughter, a first for both.

It felt good, it felt right, and it utterly surprised them, bringing them both to a standstill; their eyes on each other. Before she could say a word, Fredrick shifted the focus onto her.

"What about you, Shosanna? What cinema speaks to you?"

Like him, she did not have to give it a second thought.

"I may have my citizenship revoked for this, but I prefer the films of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire."

"_Really_?" Fredrick was shocked.

"You worked in _Le Gamaar_ for four years, surrounded by the finest of French cinema and those Americans are your favorites of them all?"

Shosanna nodded and added, with much pride,

"Oui. Along with Marion Davies, Richard Barthelmess, Colleen Moore, and Buster Keaton."

With an air of playful seriousness, Fredrick challenged,

"Who would you choose, Keaton or Chaplin?"

Shosanna smiled, and without missing a beat, "_Keaton_."

His mouth went slack, but she was not yet done with him.

"And," she held her head defiantly, "I would choose Harold Lloyd over all of them: Keaton, Chaplin, and most of all, _Max Linder_."

Grimacing, Fredrick dramatically placed a hand over his chest, which elicited more laughter from her.

"You tread upon dangerous ground, Mademoiselle Dreyfus! How you _wound_ me."

Both settling down, Shosanna took on a more wistful tone as she further expounded upon her choices.

"You see, such films, such actors… they were my escapism. I did not have to face reality for at least a few hours at a time each day because of them. For that, I am eternally grateful."

Fredrick gave her a comforting smile.

"I understand."

Shosanna's voice was softer now,

"Merci, Fredrick."

A moment passed between them as they shared a meaningful look. Once more, Fredrick spoke up,

"Peter Lorre."

Shosanna raised an eyebrow.

"Peter Lorre. You are a fan of his, too, are you not?"

Clapping her hands together, she smiled widely.

"Oui! Oui, of course! _M_ is one of my favorites."

Fredrick responded in kind,

"Oui! _M_ is a masterpiece!"

Gleefully, her voice above a whisper,

"The only reason I did not throw a fit over having to host a German night - aside from the obvious - is because it meant I could show films by Fritz Lang and F.W. Murnau."

Fredrick smirked.

"Ah, so you have an appreciation for Germans, after all."

With mock annoyance, Shosanna sat up straight.

"I told you, _we_ respect directors in my country."

"Even Germans," he shot back, smugly.

"Oui, even Germans."

Thoughtfully, Fredrick swirled the last of the wine in his glass before drinking it down and continuing on.

"You'd get along well with my sister Gerda," he informed Shosanna.

Pouring more wine in their glasses, she gave him a sidelong glance.

"Would I?"

He simply nodded.

"Oui. She loves Paris - though she's never been - and she's fond of American cinema, primarily. And - " Fredrick stopped himself momentarily, a distant look in his eyes - "when I told her that I was to star in a film about my war exploits, she exclaimed, 'Oh, like the Gary Cooper film!'"

He sighed.

"Did you know Sgt. York refused to have a film about him unless Gary Cooper specifically played him? I should have demanded the same."

Though he attempted to sound humorous, Shosanna could detect a note of disgust in his voice; she tensed.

His posture and voice now rigid, Fredrick's features noticeably darkened. He carried on, bitterly,

"I was forced into all of it. Hitler Youth was mandatory by the time I ten years old. At age sixteen, I was already being militaristically trained for Wehrmacht."

Shosanna swallowed hard, her hands now balling into fists; she thought of Fredrick as what he was - a young boy - and she thought of her brother.

Fredrick could no longer bear to look at her, his eyes to the floor, his voice faraway. He could no longer hold back and she did not want him to.

"I was eighteen by the time I was in Italy in September, 1943; in that bell tower. Shortly after that, I turned nineteen, was given a chest full of medals, and a film contract. All I had to do was show up on set. I was inconsequential to the whole project, really, as it was for the sake of Goebbels. After that, I was sent to Paris for promotion and was free to do whatever else I wanted."

Fredrick then looked back to her.

"All I had to do was make a deal with the Devil," he chuckled at the thought, and then, voice faint and giving a weak smile,

"I could consider it all worth it now, though."

Shosanna struggled to smile back, as hearing his recollection - even sparse in detail - broke her heart.

"Tell me about Helga," she broke in, "you told me about her before. Please, tell me about her."

Relaxing somewhat, Fredrick complied, his crooked smile returning,

"She is the oldest of us all - her, Elsa, Gerda, Annaleisa, Elke, Liese, and," he perked up, "me."

Shosanna smiled, heartening him.

"Helga looked after us all, you see," Fredrick's bright demeanor faltering slightly, "after my mother died of tuberculosis when I was six, my father's condition deteriorated rapidly. The first war took a toll on him, and after mum's death he became a complete drunkard. We were our support system, our family, but Helga was - and is - our rock, our foundation."

Fredrick looked down to his wringing hands.

"I am afraid that I have effectively ruined the evening," he quipped.

Reaching out, Shosanna placed her hand under his chin and raised his face to hers.

"Non, Fredrick, I wanted to know. I want to understand you better, and you have been nothing but open with me; the fact that you trust me alone with all of this… is overwhelming, but I do not take it for granted."

In response, he raised his hand to her face and ran the pad of his thumb over her scar. His voice wavering and hushed,

"Tell me about Amos."

Clenching her jaw, Shosanna nodded.

They withdrew from each other, and now sitting on her knees, she folded her hands into her lap. Her voice came loud, clear,

"He would have been twelve by now. He was my younger brother, my only sibling. My family consisted of myself, my brother Amos, my uncle Bob, and my parents, Jakob and Miriam."

Taking a moment, Shosanna gathered herself before going on. Fredrick had given her his rapt attention.

"We lived out in the countryside. We were a family of dairy farmers."

Fredrick was thoroughly impressed.

"Cows and everything?"

Shosanna smiled, despite herself.

"Oui, cows and everything. It was a modest living, but it was enough for us. We had one another, after all."

Markedly, her shoulders then sagged.

"By 1940, we had been hearing about the Jews being rounded up and taken away; they were only whispers then, but my parents still worried. It was mandatory then as well for Jews to be registered, to wear the yellow star. My parents refused; we were French citizens, like all of the others. They saw no reason for us to be branded. My brother and I were not yet fully aware of all that was transpiring, which they preferred."

Fisting her hands into the skirt of her dress, Shosanna took in a shaky breath.

"It didn't take much longer, however, and by 1941, we knew. We were hidden by a nearby family, the LaPadites; he was a widower with three daughters. Not much longer after that, in April…"

Her voice trailed off, and closing her eyes, Shosanna shuddered. Fredrick, now leaning forward, was concerned; reaching out, he put his hand over the both of hers. He _had_ to know, and she _had_ to tell him.

"Landa arrived that afternoon. My family and I hid under the floorboards. I was the only survivor. I was eighteen then, and by the time I arrived at _Le Gamaar_, I was nearly nineteen."

Opening her eyes, Shosanna exhaled. Fredrick sat back, his brow creased and at a loss for words.

"Shosanna, I am sorry, I - "

Calmly, she interrupted him.

"Fredrick, do not apologize. You are not at fault."

"Oui, but I wore the uniform," he countered.

"But you were just a child, a boy," Shosanna interjected earnestly, "and just like me, the circumstance you found yourself trapped within was out of your control."

Their conversation halted, their eyes on each other. A pall fell over them as the gravity of their situation weighed down upon them.

He was not supposed to be a war hero and she was not supposed to lose her family. She was supposed to hate him. To learn of her heritage, he should have been disgusted. They were supposed to be enemies. The two of them were not supposed to be there, together.

Nothing was guaranteed.

She learned that the day she escaped the farmhouse; he in a bell tower in Italy.

"Fate is rather strange, isn't it?" Fredrick mused.

"It is, indeed," she agreed solemnly, before reminding him,

"We could consider it all worth it now."

He could not argue. Still, he was unrelenting.

"I did not carve that swastika."

Shosanna gave him a curious expression.

"I thought of my family; that was the only reason I did not die in that bell tower. There were better soldiers than me, Shosanna. I did not want to kill those men. I'm just the only one who survived."

His eyes were on hers; his stare was impenetrable, unnerving. And within those eyes was that _flicker_ she had recognized before on film and in the projection booth. Fredrick's tone was now melancholic,

"I spent months on that set, trying the patience of those around me because I could barely hold myself together. The gun was a prop, but it may as well have been real for all I knew. The first day of filming, I threw up."

Fredrick slumped.

"Luisa was not even real."

_Luisa_.

She, as Shosanna recalled, was the sweetheart he triumphantly returned to on film: a shapely, cherubic-faced woman with round blue eyes and blonde curls; the ideal Aryan woman, devoted to the brave German War Hero. She was played by UFA actress Liselotte Lambrecht.

Running a hand through his hair, Fredrick almost laughed, he almost cried.

"I don't think Gary Cooper ever had that problem."

Taking a sip of wine, Fredrick quietly confessed,

"That's why I was so terrified and excited when you asked me to close the door."

Shosanna's brows knitted together; she was not quite understanding.

His nerves getting the better of him, Fredrick replied bluntly,

"No Luisa, no great love of my life."

Shosanna then pieced it together.

"_Oh_."

Blushing, he turned away from her, his voice barely audible.

"I wanted - and I _still_ do - to be with you, Shosanna, but not like _that_. Not _there_."

She wanted to approach the subject with care, but she wanted answers as well.

"So you've never…?"

"Oui," Fredrick cut in, embarrassed, "_never_."

This was difficult for Shosanna to grasp and even harder for him to talk about. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she turned Fredrick to face her. Reluctantly, he raised his face to hers.

"I suppose I was forced to grow up in every other area except that _one_. The other enlisted men would try to get me to visit the brothels, and even Liselotte propositioned me, but…"

His thoughts drifting off, Fredrick's eyes met with hers.

"…none of it felt right."

Sitting back on her heels, Shosanna clasped her hands in her lap.

"What does feel right, Fredrick?" she inquired.

Without hesitation, he was unwavering and honest,

"_You_, Shosanna."

There was no expectancy, no insinuation of obligation.

Fredrick was perfectly sincere.

Shosanna's heart broke.

Both were weary of tears, of grief.

Words were, and always would be, insufficient between them.

Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it to her chest, over her heart; its hammering pulse communicating what words could not. Her eyes were on his, pleading with him for an understanding; within their depths, he too, identified that same flicker. Removing her hand from his, Shosanna reached behind her back, pulling down the zipper tab little by little, just enough to free her arm from the sleeve of her dress. With his hand still in place, his eyes on hers, she felt a shiver run through Fredrick; watched as his jaw quavered as he anticipated her next move. As the sleeve fell loose, the thin strap of her slip was revealed; the only barrier between he and her flesh. With the hand of her freed arm, Shosanna plucked the strap between her thumb and forefinger. Gingerly, she dragged it down her shoulder, revealing the top of her left breast. Then, reaching up to the neckline of the garment, Shosanna pushed it down further, fully exposing her beautiful, small breast.

Fredrick swallowed and found his throat went dry.

Covering his hand with hers once more, Shosanna slid his hand down to cup her breast. She gasped at the feel of him and Fredrick's eyes fluttered shut at the contact, at the feel of her nipple hardening against his palm. Timidly, he held it, kneading the soft flesh as Shosanna arched into his hand. They leaned forward and into each other, his other hand cradling the back of her head and her other hand resting on his chest; their lips meeting. Tremors of desire ran through Fredrick as Shosanna lightly ran her tongue over his lower lip; opening his mouth for her, accepting the warm slick of her tongue sliding over his. With the feel of his lips, his tongue, and his hand on her breast, a slow pool of heat formed in her lower abdomen and her body shuddered from the sensation. Sensing this, Fredrick increased the ardor of the kiss, sucking slowly, yet hungrily on her lower lip. He _craved_ this, and it was out of control.

Abruptly, he pulled back from her. Lips parted, her breathing labored, Shosanna was left wanting. She _almost_ could have protested, she _almost_ could have sobbed. Their eyes locked.

He then knew.

She felt just as he did, just as strongly; the same ache, the same need. As Shosanna sat up on her knees, Fredrick bent forward, and taking ahold of her hips, he turned his attentions to her breast. Swirling his tongue around her nipple, he took it into his mouth, sucking gently. Clutching at his shoulders, Shosanna drew in a breath through her teeth, but had found her lungs had constricted with anticipation.

They needed more.

Shifting his attention, Fredrick tightened his hold on her hips and the two stood on shaking legs, their eyes on each other. Her body against his, Shosanna could feel that he was hard, painfully and urgently so. Their breathing uneven, their hearts racing, the two regarded one another with anxious expectation. The way Fredrick looked upon Shosanna could have made her knees buckle; the enormity with which he wanted her, _loved_ her was almost unfathomable. Without a word and a slight nod of her head, Shosanna gave him her consent; she wanted this as much as he.

Their eyes never leaving the other, Shosanna and Fredrick undressed each other. He was meticulous with every detail: his fingertips skimmed over every inch of her skin he exposed, his hands cupped every curve; from the swell of her ass, her soft breasts, her narrow hips, to her elegant neck. The heat which pooled in her lower abdomen spread to every inch he touched, leaving her nerves inflamed and senses heightened. Fredrick, too, was just as affected by Shosanna - the feel and sight of her skin, her body in such close proximity to his - to know, to feel that she wanted _this_, wanted _him_. Pulling the thin, white undershirt from his body, she brushed his rogue forelocks away from his face, just as he had done so many times before when in her presence. Running her hands - _soft_, _gentle_ - over his bare chest, his abdominals, watching as the muscle tensed and relaxed beneath her fingertips, Shosanna looked upon him with wonder; as she did so, a feeling stirred within Fredrick, an ache which demanded attention.

Her hands hovered at the waistline of his slacks, and she looked up into his eyes. The trust, the love, and the sad, desperate desire she found within them was devastating. Shosanna forced her hands steady as she worked the small button fastening the pants. Looking up again, she could see he had his head back with his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, waiting.

"Shosanna, _please_…"

It came out as a near plea; it was all he could manage, and it was all that she needed to hear. Without further reluctance, Shosanna made quick work of the slacks and his briefs, snaking them down his legs, leaving them to gather around his feet. Standing back from one another, they both drew in breath at the sight of each other. There was a quiet sultriness to her face, a simple certainty reflected in her round, green eyes. Her body, lithe and delicate, held a lush invitation in every curve. With her fair skin and halo of golden waves, Shosanna was positively radiant. Fredrick was simply awed by Shosanna and his wide-eyed, reverential gaze brought a rush of color to her face. He was conscious of his developing enthrallment, but was helpless to resist.

Shosanna, too, was captivated by Fredrick. She was at once fascinated and intimidated. He appeared in flux, somewhere between manhood and boyishness. The light and shadows highlighted the boyish, youthful, contours of his face and emphasized his dark hair and eyes, which were fixated upon her. His body, in its condition and in full state of arousal was wholly masculine; comprised of taut, hard lines and lean muscle, his was a body honed and sculpted by years of discipline and militaristic training. The strength, power, vulnerability, and innocence of the German war hero was enough to leave her breathless. Shosanna wanted him in every conceivable manner.

Closing the space between them, Fredrick took Shosanna's face into his hands; in return, she did the same, placing her hands on the sides of his face, eyes locking on the other with amazement. Lowering his face to hers, their lips met; softly, staggeringly. As they parted, Shosanna took Fredrick by the hand, leading him to the bed; his eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips, the fullness of her ass, and the provocative curves of her thighs as she moved. Bathed in moonlight, she lay down on the bed, stretched out on her back, waiting for him. Without pause for permission, without apprehension, Fredrick lay down on his side next to Shosanna, facing her. Though his hardness was aching against her thigh, Fredrick's attention was exclusively on her. Stretching out a hand, he cupped the side of her face, turning her head to him; very lightly, he ran his thumb over her scar, watching as she closed her eyes. He continued to move his hand downward, his fingertips running along every curve of her cheek, of her jawline. Reaching her sensuous mouth, he then traced the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.

"You are beautiful, Shosanna."

Her eyes opened, meeting his. Fredrick was totally genuine. It was clear for her to see - it was held within his eyes, in the way that he touched her - that Fredrick had never wanted anyone, anything, like _this_. Shosanna _almost_ could have wept out of the joy and sorrow from knowing that out of a circumstance such as theirs, two people such as they could be brought together.

Changing his position so that he was now half above her, Fredrick took her lips with his own. Shosanna moved against him, under him, with him, parting her lips for him as Fredrick smoothly pressed his tongue forward into her mouth. He moved breathless and intense against her as his hands moved over her body, wanting more. Fredrick seemed addicted to tasting Shosanna - her lips, her skin, the curve of her neck - moving further down, he turned his focus to her breasts. She knew she could never tire of the feel of his mouth against her skin, tasting, sucking, and memorizing as he spread soft kisses upward and over her nipples, his hand following along, exploring the way they hardened beneath his touch. Shosanna barely had time to recover from Fredrick's ministrations, as he was enamored with every inch of her.

Every small intake of breath, each hitch in breath were encouragement enough as he made his way from her breasts to her abdomen and further down, to her hipbones; no part of her went unnoticed. As Fredrick reached the junction between her thighs, her breath caught, and he looked to her for reassurance. Shosanna's voice barely came out in the smallest of whispers,

"_Fredrick_."

Shosanna spread herself for him, and repositioning himself between her legs, Fredrick slowly swept his fingers over her knee, tracing downward and along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. At first, she jerked, her body jolting from his touch, her thighs closing around him as though to deny him access. But Fredrick's fingers moved rhythmically, stroking, teasing, testing, and her legs moved apart, mutely inviting his touch. Tenderly, he explored her slick heat; it was exquisite, it was excruciating. She shifted beneath him, hips lifting, wanting more. Reaching for his hand, Shosanna covered it with hers, guiding his movements. Fredrick understood her yearning, her need, and gave her his complete compliance. Together, they caressed and stroked her center, applying pressure and finding their rhythm. Shosanna was dazed, feeling open and exposed to him in a way that went beyond the bareness of her body. Every nerve leapt, every sense focused, following his touch as he took the lead.

Leaning forward and over her, Fredrick captured her lips with his own, filling her mouth with his tongue; as he did so, he slid one, long finger into her. Gasping through the kiss, Shosanna could no longer breathe, no longer think; all she could do was move against him, her body coiling tight. Feeling her tense, Fredrick held her to him, her lips beneath his as he led her on, cupping her and grinding his palm against her clit. Feeling Shosanna wriggle against him anxiously, Fredrick groaned, his lips leaving her mouth. Kissing her frantically down her throat and onto the white plain of her chest, he closed his mouth over her nipple and sucked. Shosanna almost screamed, the sound only half-smothered; the sensation, the heat, had grown exceedingly sharper. With nimble fingers, Fredrick then increased both pressure and rhythm, pressing further; astonished by the tactile wonder of the hot, slick flesh he caressed.

Desire surged and rushed through her; she felt his touch so keenly, so intimately. Her senses igniting, nerves unravelling and her body shuddering, Shosanna grasped at Fredrick as she came. With wonder, he watched her through her completion, marveling at the effect he had upon her, at all he was able to make her feel. Traces of her arousal and climax still lingering on his fingers, Fredrick brought them into his mouth, savoring the taste of her. Curling into her side, he looked upon Shosanna with veneration: the way her lips parted as she cried out, how her skin flushed pink as she orgasmed; to know her body on such an intimate level. Shosanna was resplendent.

It was still not enough, which they both knew.

The weight of his erection was heavy on her thigh. Rolling over onto her side to directly face him, his name the barest of sounds in the quiet room,

"Fredrick."

Seizing his face in her hands, Shosanna closed her mouth over his, pulling him into a kiss, sweet and lingering, tasting herself on his lips. His body was pressed against hers, his hardness against her abdomen. Breaking the kiss, Fredrick brought his head to rest in the crook of her neck, his voice a whisper,

"_Shosanna_."

There was an insistency to his tone and Shosanna knew - and expected - that he could not wield control any longer, that he could not contain himself, especially now, paired with the emotions they were at long last sharing. Taking him into her arms, she pulled at Fredrick, urging him upward and along her body, until once again, she was able to look into his eyes; there was still more Shosanna wanted to feel, more that she wanted of him. Fredrick smiled softly, his eyes half-lidded with desire and warmth.

Dragging in a breath, Shosanna turned her attention to him, to other aspects she'd yet to explore. She ran her fingers over his chest, tracing over every hard line, feeling the shifting muscle. Fingers spread, she tested, she explored; drifting lower, over his rigid abdomen. From beneath heavy lids, Fredrick watched her face, enthralled - as always - with the play of emotions across it, by the directness he'd become acquainted with upon first meeting Shosanna, and he valued it for what it was. As guarded as she could be, he knew that with her, there would never be a need to wonder, to even think.

It seemed as though there weren't enough places to touch him, to show him how she felt. Shosanna moved her hands over Fredrick's sides, up and over his back, feeling the smooth hardness of muscles tightening beneath her touch. She then traveled down to his hips and between his legs, to the hardest part of him, pressed against her thigh. There, with her long, tapered fingers, Shosanna took him into her hand. The sound Fredrick made as she did so was incredible; soft and deep, he drew in a breath, his eyes grew wider, darker. Delicately, she tightened her hold on him, and his body mildly shook. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Fredrick exhaled against her skin as he moved back from the intensity of her grip. Shosanna further encouraged him, kissing the crook of his neck, tasting the sheen of sweat. Again, Fredrick sucked in a breath, and moved forward in her hand. Smiling against his skin, her voice was low and honeyed as she coaxed him on.

"Just _feel_, Fredrick."

Together - she, sliding her hand up and down the length of him, and he, moving into her grip, back and forth - they once again found their rhythm. Fredrick had experienced such stimulation before on his own, but nothing as gratifying as _this_; it was a feeling he had never known before. He was at the mercy of Shosanna's gentle hands, and it was far too much for him to contain. His sensory overload tripping within him, she felt him shake against her. With his voice catching as he attempted to utter her name, Shosanna loosened her hold, but silently, Fredrick objected. He held her hand to him, as the demand he felt within was too much. Shosanna complied, taking him again, allowing for Fredrick to reach his moment. He cried out softly, yet urgently; her name faintly upon his lips. His body still shook as he rested, half to one side above her, struggling to regain his composure, his breath. Looking into his eyes, Shosanna was able to see - and feel - so much.

She wanted more.

Smiling crookedly at Shosanna, Fredrick rose slowly and shakily to meet her lips, his body easing against hers. He trailed kisses along her jawline and neck as he ran his hand down her side, along the curve of her hip - mindful of the wetness he had left there - and back up to her breast, his eyes focusing there as he ran his thumb over her nipple. His eyes then rose back to hers as she returned his gaze. Both knew what they wanted - _needed_ - of the other, from each other. No words had to be said, as it was understood.

Fredrick inched closer to Shosanna and she put her leg over his backside, pulling him closer still. Moving his hand over her leg, his fingertips stroking up and down her thigh, she could feel him against her, the gentle pulse there; neither would have to wait much longer. Leaning into him, she pressed her lips to his. Eagerly, determinedly, he returned her kiss as he snaked a hand underneath her, cupping her ass. For long moments there was nothing but this, nothing but her mouth exploring his, the crush of his body to hers; both provoking the other.

Feeling Fredrick's arousal, Shosanna rolled onto her back, taking him with her. With his body over hers once more, she could feel his insistent need against her, hard and ready; her body, responding naturally, moved against his, her hips bucking. He let his hand fall to her leg as it rose against his hip; as she moved, he slipped between her thighs, and she opened herself to him. Resting on his elbows, he placed his hands on either side of her face, looking down into her eyes. Physically, the two of them were more than ready, their bodies straining against the other.

Meeting his gaze, Shosanna found a look in Fredrick's eyes that was questioning; questions that she wanted to answer over and over. Sliding her hands from his shoulders, she brought them to cup his face. Fredrick wanted Shosanna in all ways, just as she felt for him; that she knew. It was unspoken love and concern, profound and true. Words were not sufficient, and in that moment, she did not feel she was capable of even speaking; in their place, she offered a smile, genuine and meaningful, intending to convey all she understood and felt. Lowering his face to hers, Fredrick brought his lips to her forehead. As he pulled back, Shosanna could feel that he was trembling.

_Trembling_.

Fredrick Zoller, German War Hero, was trembling, and all because of Shosanna Dreyfus.

This was what they both wanted; it was an immeasurable demand, an exhaustive need that could only be satisfied with one another. It was felt that night they had met, outside _Le Gamaar_; Fredrick felt it instantly, and it blossomed within Shosanna the moment he turned from her and disappeared into the darkness. She had initially chastised herself for her attraction to him, for her ever increasing interest in the German War Hero, for her heart wrenching when in his presence. Her heart gave way and broke knowing that he too, like the others, would be killed that night of the premiere. Shosanna could have and should have hated herself for it, but she thought of him, even in the most intimate of moments, wondering about the look and feel of him out of the uniform.

Shosanna had become his single consolation, and he had thought of her often. He had written about her excitedly to Helga back in Munich, how he had hoped for the two women to eventually meet, how he had wanted to share his life with the young theater proprietor. She was Emmanuelle Mimieux then, but after the night they witnessed the destruction of _Le Gamaar_, Fredrick knew that he loved Shosanna Dreyfus more than Emmanuelle, more strongly than any single emotion the young man had ever felt in his short, tumultuous life.

Looking into her eyes long and steady, Fredrick could see and feel the absolute trust, love, and vulnerability Shosanna felt; she, too, saw and felt the same reflected in his eyes. All of the tension, the denial, and the unfulfilled longing would finally be brought to an end; along with that came all of their anguish and sorrow from their shared traumas. Realizing this was enough to bring them to tears. What they wanted, what they _needed_ was each other.

There was no going back.

Feeling how Fredrick shifted against her with such restless urgency, Shosanna reached her hand down, to between their legs. Carefully, she touched him, cupping him; feeling the extent of his arousal, she encircled him with her hand. Their eyes never parting, she guided him closer, touching him to her. Voice faint, Shosanna whispered,

"_Oui, Fredrick._"

Retracting her hand, she brought them to his shoulders as Fredrick, giving a slow, instinctive push of his hips, entered her; engulfed within her warm, tight, wet heat. Both drew in a harsh breath and their bodies stilled from the magnitude of that long-awaited connection as it filled them fully. He looked upon her with wonder, lust, and love. Nearly rendered senseless, she was his only focus; there was nothing else.

"_Shosanna._"

She lifted her hips in encouragement, craving beyond measure all he had to give, and she wanted to give him the same in return. As their bodies eased into each other, adjusting to one another, Fredrick closed his eyes, allowing the feeling to carry him. Shosanna, too, joined him in his reverie, relishing the feel of his hardness, his length, and the weight of his body, pushing her into the mattress. Opening his eyes, Fredrick met her gaze, his face set in concentration. He moved; his first thrust enough to make them both cry out. Together, they found their rhythm; languid, yet ardent. Their eyes fixed on each other; they studied one another without a word, their bodies moving steadily together, speaking all they had left to silence.

Immersed in each other, they wanted, needed more. Pressing, thrusting himself deeper, harder, into and against her, Fredrick quickened the pace, and Shosanna was more than able to rise to his challenge. He was consumed with her, in the wholeness of loving her, of giving himself to her, to feeling all she had to give in return; Shosanna was _everything_. Fredrick bent his head, taking her mouth once more, her lips parting beneath his. Wrapping her arms around his back, she caressed, trailing her fingertips along to his biceps and feeling the firm, flexed muscle. Shosanna was wholly lost in Fredrick, in his body.

They both broke from the kiss, gasping, their breaths intermingling as he moved within her swiftly, completely. With his thrusts growing more forceful, Shosanna writhed beneath Fredrick, craving solidity. Her fingers straightening from where they curled around his biceps, she slid her hands up over his back and clung; she wanted _this_, wanted him, to be sore from his weight, to feel the full force of his release, for him to feel the strength of hers. His breath staggering, and body tensing, Shosanna wrapped her legs around him, holding him to her in a passionate embrace; he was not yet ready to let go, as her own climax was imminent. His body shaking, Shosanna urged Fredrick on, pressing her heels into his lower back. Driving into her forcefully, powerfully, she rode every thrust, pushing back against him, clinging to him with desperation, a hunger she had not felt before; never before had she craved completion. Both were left breathless, heated, their nerves spiraling; his thrusts growing more strenuous, aggressive.

This was what she wanted, what she needed, and Fredrick _had_ to give it to her.

Every stroke, every thrust was deliberate, determined. Bracing herself against Fredrick, Shosanna met him stroke for stroke; moving with him and against him fervently. Her palms flat on his back, Shosanna could feel the muscle as it tensed and relaxed. A shiver coursed through her, as she could feel herself, right on the edge, and she could feel him; solid and pulsating. Lowering his head, Fredrick nuzzled her neck, his voice low against her throat; the dampness of his forehead and her own sweat mingling to create a sensational smoothness as his lips moved there,

"_Shosanna…_"

From beneath heavy lids, their eyes met; locked, their bodies slowed.

The way his voice trailed off, the way he looked into her eyes, spoke all that he could not. Shosanna flushed with heat; from her own rush of blood, from his body. She could smell his scent, her skin so alive and responsive, and her flesh quivered, pulsing and warm. Blood thrumming in her veins, her body hummed with pleasure, throbbed with desire. She waited, her breath hitching. Looking into his eyes, Shosanna found them filled with an emotion, a ferocity she had never seen there before.

Mercifully, Fredrick moved his hips, pushing forward; one final, inexorably hard thrust.

Her body quaked, her nerve endings unwound, and her perception shattered. Heat pulsed through her, flooding her mind and soul. Catching her breath, Shosanna clutched at Fredrick as she came, her back arching into his body and her hips bucking as indescribable sensations wracked her body, reeling and coalescing. He was absolutely beguiled with her in this moment; how her brows knitted together from the intensity of her release, how her skin flushed, and how her petite body felt, writhing beneath him. Crying out, Shosanna nearly sobbed out of relief, out of the profundity of all that she felt, in this moment, with him.

As she clenched around him, Fredrick, too, found his release; white-hot and blinding. His breath shortening, Shosanna could feel him, feel that he was ready. Hips thrusting forward, he cried out roughly, entirely overwhelmed as his body shuddered, his hips rocking and pushing against her. She was amazed by the sight of him; how his eyes shut tightly, how both fragile and strong his body seemed to be, and how, as if in veneration, his head bowed. No longer able to hold his own weight, Fredrick collapsed against Shosanna, his faced buried in her hair, his lips to her temple.

They were lost in the moment as it hung heavy between them. Leaning away from her just enough to bring his eyes back over her own, Fredrick brought his hand up to cup the side of her face; his expression far too complex to decipher. Shosanna, feeling him rising away from her, looked to him; eyes imploring, her hips lifting against his.

Fredrick could not refuse her.

He lowered himself back down, his body over hers, and together, they lay there; sore, exhausted, and thoroughly sated.

* * *

Fredrick lay curled into Shosanna's side, his head on her chest, his arm stretched over her midsection and his legs tangled with hers. Some time had passed since their lovemaking, and to Fredrick's protestations, Shosanna left bed only to retrieve her pack of cigarettes and matchbook. Now, she lay on her back with him, observing as smoke curled and dissipated above them as her other hand busied itself stroking through his mussed hair. The air was thick with the scent of the two lovers and tobacco, the atmosphere still heavy with the moment they had lost themselves within.

Her mind was still wandering.

Her eyes set back on the young man against her. She had never thought that she would ever make love with a Nazi, much less teach a virginal German War Hero how to.

She _almost_ laughed.

Fredrick Zoller, despite wearing the uniform, was not one of _them_. One of _them_ would not politely engage her in a conversation about film, they would not divulge such personal details of their lives, nor would they ever allow someone such as herself - be it Shosanna Dreyfus or Emmanuelle Mimieux - to see their vulnerabilities.

It did not matter to Shosanna if Landa had an older sister Helga, who loved him, or whether or not he truly believed the rhetoric the men he worked for espoused; her hatred for him was settled in the pit of her stomach, in the back of her mind. Fredrick Zoller was decidedly not like those men, not cut from the same cloth from men like Landa.

Her heart could not break for a man like Hans Landa.

He, along with the others, had burned to death in _Le Gamaar_.

_Le Gamaar_.

_Marcel_.

In all honesty, she was glad to see that he had survived. However, even if the two of them made it out alive together, they would not have lasted; the strain was already there, put upon them by a young soldier.

Sighing, Shosanna took a drag off her cigarette and brushed Fredrick's hair back from his face.

She held no regrets.

Drawing her eyes to the ceiling, Shosanna exhaled, watching as the smoke drifted and broke apart, reveling in the feel of Fredrick against her.

She loved the feel of his mouth against hers, the warm press of his flesh, his eyes wide with adoration. Most of all, she loved him.

Shosanna Dreyfus loved Fredrick Zoller.

It was all so simple, yet so complicated.

Overcome, she separated from him almost violently. Dazed, Fredrick awoke to find Shosanna hunched over the side of the bed, her back to him. Alarmed, he sat up; his voice was small, uneasy,

"Shosanna?"

She did not answer. Her hand was clamped over her mouth in a futile attempt to suppress those emotions that were ever-present, constantly threatening to surface. The words, though still difficult to articulate, were felt through to the core of her heart, within her bones. The extent of those feelings left her overawed and terrified; to begin to even contemplate the tremendousness of it could reduce her to tears.

Panic lanced through Fredrick; fearful that he had overstepped some boundary, that he had coerced her into something she did not want, he tried once more, overwrought,

"_Shosanna_?"

Sucking in a breath, she spoke, hoarsely, severely,

"_I couldn't sleep_."

The mattress shifting with his weight, Shosanna felt Fredrick at her back, his hand, warm and firm, on her shoulder; a soothing gesture.

The words, the tears, would not come. She was exasperated with herself.

Turning to face him, Shosanna was astounded at what she had found. His expression somber, he held in his eyes an empathy, a recognition, a familiarity. Shosanna and Fredrick had fully given of themselves to one another; he trembled in her arms, her name upon his lips like a mantra. What the two of them had was transcendent. It coursed through her, leaving her shaking; her mind committing to memory every line and curve of him, his every movement, his every touch.

Shosanna Dreyfus and Fredrick Zoller needed each other.

Nothing more had to be said. She sank back into Fredrick as he circled his arms around her waist and drew her back into bed; her cigarette butt slipping from her fingers and onto the floor. Settling against him, Shosanna closed her eyes as the two lay huddled together; his body protectively over hers, his arms solidly holding her. Inhaling deeply, Fredrick took in her scent, murmuring words of comfort and endearments against her skin in German. Shosanna could not speak the language, which he knew. There was, however, a string of words she was familiar with, breathed into her ear with exaltation,

"_Ich liebe dich, Shosanna_."

She smiled.


	7. Everything Will Be Alright

Every fiber of his body screamed in agony.

The gunfire sounded like thunder, echoing through him, ringing in his ears.

Exhausted, his body slumped against the cold stone wall, his eyes squeezing shut.

It was then that he felt her presence.

Opening his eyes, he found her kneeling before him. She was as stunning a vision as she was the night of _Le Gamaar_'s demise.

She was bleeding profusely from four bullet wounds: three in her abdomen, the fourth in her chest.

_Did I put those there?_

Despite this, her face was placid; a beatific smile upon her lips.

She was simply ethereal.

He wanted to sob at the sight of her, but it came out half smothered, half choked.

_What has become of me?_

She reached for him, his beautiful phantom, and he welcomed her, taking her into his arms; crushing her to him.

She was real. She was solid.

He could feel her warm, sticky blood soaking through his uniform.

But she was not in pain.

She took his face into her hands and with her red lips, covered his mouth.

It was chaste. It was vulgar.

Immersed with one another, he began to wonder if he had gone mad.

But if he had, he surmised, it did not matter.

Nothing mattered but the woman in his arms.

All that remained were the two of them.

The world around them was at long last silenced.

* * *

It was early morning, before sunrise.

Shosanna lay on her side. Fredrick was at her back with his arms around her; the two were tangled with each other.

Opening his eyes, he relaxed upon feeling the solidity of her body and hearing the rhythmic sound of her breathing. Fredrick held her closer to him, brushing his lips along her shoulder and up her neck.

Stirring slightly, Shosanna made a soft noise.

Smiling against her skin, Fredrick continued his path, his lips traveling the course of her neck. He then pushed back her hair with his hand so that his mouth could explore unimpeded. Fredrick kissed along her jawline, and up over her cheekbone until burying his face in her hair and taking in her scent. Awaking from his attentions, Shosanna sighed contentedly. Feeling his hardness pressed into her back, she smiled and playfully chastised him.

"You're insatiable."

Fredrick gave a muffled laugh and brought a hand up to cup her breast, her nipple hardening against his palm. His voice came low, reverential,

"_Shosanna_."

The feel of his breath against her skin with his body, solid at her back, and his hands, warm and strong upon her with his long, masculine fingers curling around her flesh, sent that same surge of heat and longing through her. She knew she would always feel that with Fredrick; from their first encounter outside of _Le Gamaar_, to here, within the confines of their room and every moment after.

Taking in a breath, Shosanna rolled over in his arms to face him. From beneath dark lashes, Fredrick watched her, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. The two now viewed each other anew; their consummation having changed everything between them. All that they were was no longer denied.

Tightly, he held her to him, his mouth covering her own; hot and consuming. Shosanna trembled, stunned by the immediate desire that rushed through her at his kiss. She flushed with exquisite warmth, her body now wildly alive to his every touch as her senses sharpened. Fredrick's mouth sank into hers, his lips exploring, taking, and giving; Shosanna felt as if she were drowning. The fury in his kiss drained away until there was only a need and passion so devastating that it coursed through every fiber of her being.

Fredrick's arms loosened around Shosanna as he brought one hand up to cup the back of her head, the other sliding down her waist and over her hip. His fingers were spread wide, encompassing as much of her body as he could; his skin was fevered and searing to her sensitized flesh. With his hand behind her head holding her mouth to his, Fredrick then rounded his other hand over the curve of her ass, caressing and squeezing as he continued to kiss her. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, pushing her up and into him, so that she felt the full length of his erection against her abdomen.

Shosanna quivered, an ache growing between her legs, warm and pulsing; she knew very much what she wanted. She pressed herself even more stably to him and moved her hips against his arousal. Fredrick pulled his mouth away, murmuring her name in a shaken whisper,

"_Shosanna_."

She rolled onto her back, the full weight of Fredrick's body on top of her. He kissed her face and throat; his lips, teeth, and tongue teasing and nipping at her delicate skin as he made his way down the column of her neck. Shosanna let her head loll back, offering herself to him.

As Fredrick trailed his mouth down her body, he brought his hands to her chest. She shuddered. His fingers cradled her soft breasts and she found herself filled with a satisfaction from his touch, along with an ever-growing hunger; she _needed_ more.

Fredrick growled and brought his mouth up to claim hers once more. As he slid his tongue over hers, his long fingers gently cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, exciting them into hardened points and further amplifying her arousal. Shosanna squirmed restlessly, yearning for more. Her hands moved instinctively, sliding up his chest and around to the back of his neck, shoving up into his hair.

Shosanna felt as though she were on fire; everywhere that Fredrick's mouth or hands touched her, she grew even hotter. She squeezed her thighs together, the heat spreading and pooling there; insistent and throbbing. Her hips bucking against him, Shosanna could feel his hardness, agitating her further. Making a rough noise, Fredrick shifted against her, breaking the kiss and pulling back. Looking down into her face, he knew what Shosanna wanted, what they both _needed_; her large eyes pleading with him.

But he was not yet ready.

Fredrick carried on with his barrage of her senses, moving down to the mounds of her breasts. Shosanna let out a moan of surprise, and felt his mouth form into a smile against her flesh. She might have resented him for it had it not been followed by the hot, wet touch of his tongue, circling her nipple and curling around it. Opening his mouth, Fredrick closed it over her nipple and sucked. Shosanna arched up in response, her hands digging into his hair and her whole body tightening.

His hand moved slowly down her front, to between her legs. Eagerly, Shosanna parted her thighs for him as he caressed her. The feel of her heated center nearly made him jolt; her wetness for him, _because_ of him. She could feel Fredrick against her, his muscles taut and hard, as though he could barely hold control over himself. Her name was upon his lips; his breath trailing over her breast, her skin prickling.

She moved against his hand in anticipation; her body tremoring, his fingers flexing. Fredrick gently nuzzled his face against her soft flesh as he lightly kissed his way across her chest and turned his attention to her other breast. As his mouth closed around her nipple and sucked, Shosanna tensed, breathless and wanting. The touch of his hand was agonizingly delicate, almost precious, as he carried on with his ministrations, arousing her past bearing, her hips rocking against him and her back arching up.

Fredrick's hand between her legs was now firm and pressing as his fingers applied the slightest bit of pressure. He rubbed her rhythmically, provoking her with slick stimulation. It went on and on, his mouth at her breast and his hand at her center; stroking, kissing, licking, and tormenting until she lay beneath him trembling, aching.

He did not yet want her to let go.

"_Fredrick_," his name was a sigh, "_please_."

Her words shook him. His hand stilled and he lifted his head. Eyes wide, Shosanna looked up at him.

Both were rendered motionless as they regarded one another.

His jaw was clenched as his struggle for control was plain upon his features; his face was suffused with lust, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark. With his rogue forelocks falling forward, he was both boyish and completely masculine.

Her eyes were bright, her cheeks blushed with color, and her lips were dark and full, almost bruised-looking. She positively _glowed_.

Both were left wanting; their hearts thundered, their bodies thrummed, alive to one another.

With care, Fredrick situated himself between her thighs and lowered his body to hers. Just as before, he rested on his elbows. He now placed his hands on either side of her face, threading his fingers into her hair. He bowed his head over hers; Shosanna could feel the brush of his cheek against her hair. For a moment, Fredrick pressed his lips to her temple. His voice then came weak and staggering,

"_Shosanna._"

She could feel him hold back and tense slightly. Shosanna went still, waiting. Finally, Fredrick raised his head, and their eyes locked. His expression was a nearly indecipherable mix of love and sorrow; his dark eyes watching her. Her breath came shallow and fast, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted this moment. She wanted _him_.

In a few hours' time, the two would be leaving the inn, entrusting their lives to one another and to fate. The rest of their lives could stretch out in bleak emptiness, but for this moment, they would lose themselves in each other; they would have their solace, their peace.

Both were fully aware of this.

Fredrick continued to hold her attention, his eyes intense. His shaft was prodding at her abdomen, and her body writhed against him.

A faint smile played upon Fredrick's lips.

Leaning in, he at long last kissed her. He kissed her as if they had all the time in the world; his mouth soft, slow, and seeking. There was no hint of haste, no hurry to satisfy his own need, only a quiet, lingering exploration. Shosanna, stunned and replete, returned his kisses with a languid bliss; content to lay there with Fredrick, to feel the weight of him upon her.

She slid her hands lazily up his arms, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her palms, tracing the curve of muscle that lay beneath. The tension that did not show in his kisses lay in his body; within the flexed muscle and forearms which supported him, and his skin, which shivered as she touched it. Testing his control further, Shosanna stroked her hand down the center of his chest, and the shudder that shook him in response awakened a new heat in her.

She moved agitatedly beneath him, unable to keep still from all that Fredrick's mouth and body aroused in her. Instinctively, he held himself to her, moving himself against her. She could feel him; hard, heavy, and pulsing.

Breaking the kiss, Shosanna took in a shaky breath. Raising his head to look down at her, Fredrick smiled in a way that made the warm ache between her legs grow. Bending forward, he placed a kiss upon her forehead, moving down over her jawline, and over the length of her neck, where he tasted her pulse and the hollow of her throat. As he brought his lips to her chest, he curved his hand over her breast, moving with infinite patience over the arc of the flesh. Reaching her nipple, Fredrick traced the outer rim of the areola with his tongue, circling again and again, until he at last touched the hardened tip at the center.

Desiring more, her body nearly lifted off the bed and she held onto him, seeking the strength of his body to anchor her. Her breath was almost a sob, caught in her throat; her impassioned arousal intensifying to such a degree that it was almost painful. Shosanna whispered his name, her head jerking to the side. Fredrick let out a groan, at last conceding and taking her nipple into his mouth, sucking as she raked the blunt edges of her nails over his back; kneading the flesh.

When she was certain she could bear no more of his affections, Fredrick let go. He hung his head for a moment, his breath harsh, his muscles clenched. Shosanna could have protested, but just as quickly as he stopped, he started again, kissing the space between her breasts and bringing his mouth to her other nipple. Fredrick's hand then came back down to between her legs, slipping into her slick folds; stroking her. Hips undulating, she moved against him, her body screaming for release. Panting, frustrated, she whimpered.

He then pressed harder, feeling her body giving way a little. Wet, ready, and entirely at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, Shosanna nearly broke down; a cry escaping from her lips. Her body wriggling anxiously beneath him, she heard a ragged groan from his throat. Fredrick was losing his tenuous grasp on his control. He moved, lowering himself, spreading her legs farther apart. She felt the probing tip of him at her center; the pressure, the fullness.

Shosanna moaned, her hips lifting up to take him in as Fredrick entered her. In that moment, they both let out a startled cry, their bodies straining and their breathing labored. He paused, his body rigid and quavering with the effort, their eyes on one another. She loved the look of him; his eyes hard and bright, intent upon her, his mouth softening with desire.

Neither, they knew, could ever tire of _this_. _This_ was everything.

But Shosanna could not bear the waiting. She ran her hands down his sides and onto his hips, urging him on; her eyes on his.

"I want you," she said simply.

Fredrick's jaw tightened and he let out a little groan. As he thrust inside her, Shosanna gasped, amazed and elated at the feel of him. With great eagerness, she took Fredrick into her, silken thighs sliding up his sides as she wrapped her legs around him; reveling in the way he filled her. She wanted all of him, to possess him and to be possessed by him.

Fredrick began to move within her and Shosanna fully embraced him, gripping him to her; their bodies melding together. Running her hands over him, she found every part of him exciting: from the smoothness of his skin and the firm muscle beneath, the hard lines of his ribcage, the angles of his collarbone and broad shoulders, to the coarse hair on his well-defined chest. Everything about Fredrick, in this moment, heightened her arousal; the shape and strength of his musculature, to the myriad signs and rough sounds of his own arousal.

There was no holding back; only an overly zealous, fervid race to fulfillment. Their bodies hungry and demanding, moving together to the completion that both desired to give to one another, to feel together. She let out a little hiccup of sound, part moan, part laughter at the sheer pleasure of his movements. And she moved with him; meeting each thrust completely, forcefully, arching with demand with his every motion.

She relished the weight and power of his body as he arched into her, the force of him pushing into her deeper, adding his amazingly steady strength to her rising need. It was exciting to hold him this close, to feel him stroke within her; together, they moved in a steady rhythm.

Fredrick lowered his forehead to hers, his voice hoarsely muttering words of reverence in German, reverberating through her. Bringing his mouth to hers, his lips moved against her own, his tongue exploring her mouth with lazy revelry. Shosanna returned his kiss, ardently and desperately, her fingers twining through his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp as new sensations rocked her. Clinging to him, she wanted nothing more than his hands and mouth on her, the hard pulse of him within her.

This time, the feeling now ratcheting up in Fredrick was familiar, and knowing how it felt for Shosanna only made him want it more. It was even stronger, even wilder as it filled him as he filled her, joining her to him.

The aching need both felt within was overwhelming them. Breaking the kiss, their eyes locked on each other as Fredrick, bracing his body against hers, drove into Shosanna with an unrestrained passion she had not thought him capable of. Their bodies coiling with tight intensity with every movement and every touch, they gave and took of the other all that they had. There was nothing else, nothing more than what they had with one another.

It was far too much.

She broke apart beneath him as sensations surged through her, leaving her quaking in the aftermath. Her hips bucked uncontrollably, pushing against him, her body arching into his as he thrust deeply inside her; she could have lifted off of the bed if it were not for the weight of him on top of her. Shosanna wanted to scream with joy, but Fredrick covered her mouth with his own as she felt him drive into her one last time.

Shuddering heavily, he held his mouth against hers; she had swallowed his fierce shout of satisfaction, just as he had swallowed her softer cries. They gave themselves up to one another in this moment; arms grabbing, legs tangling, and hips thrusting until with laboring breath, they sank into each other.

Shaking, Fredrick looked upon Shosanna with adoration. She smiled up at him as he gazed at her; his face was soft with contentment, his eyes lambent and his cheeks flushed. Reaching a hand up, Shosanna touched his cheek gently with her fingertips, tracing down and along his jawline.

Bringing his face to hers, he lightly kissed her brows, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her mouth, before then settling his face against her neck. Fredrick relaxed against her; she could hear his breathing slow, feel his body losing its former tension. Neither could speak; both were entirely spent, their bodies tired from restraint held too long.

As the room filled with the warm rays of the early morning sun, Shosanna was made aware of a distinct sense of disappointment. Their brief interlude would soon be over, and she and Fredrick would have to return to their lives. Unconsciously, she let out a sigh.

"I know," Fredrick whispered, "I don't want to go back."

He then pressed a kiss where her neck joined her shoulder, his voice hushed with veneration,

"_Liebling_."

This was, Shosanna realized, what it felt to truly love another. She had never really known before, never really felt the full extent of love. It was not as sweet and ideal as it had been made out to be in her childhood storybooks; it was better. It was shocking, poignant, and achingly real. What she had found with Fredrick was raw, it was beautiful.

Her heart gloriously broke.

* * *

Her body felt like deadweight, laying leaden where it had crashed to the floor.

Her eyes were open wide, her vision hazy as the figure standing over her sharpened into focus.

He was a handsome vision in white, his youthful face smiling brightly at her.

She wanted to reach for him, to speak; most of all, she wanted to sob. But she could not. All she had wanted to articulate remained a stifled cry in her throat.

With great care, he slid an arm beneath her shoulders, the other at the small of her back, lifting her up and into him.

Where she was once slack, she was now strong, held in his arms.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to thrash against him.

She wanted to tear him to shreds.

She wanted to hurt this young man.

He was aware of this, she knew, as he now looked upon her mournfully.

Holding her close, he cradled her, and she did not fight.

Embracing him, she felt warm, sticky blood trickling down his back.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she buried her face into his chest.

He spoke; his voice sounding like heartbreak,

"Ich liebe dich mehr, als du dir je vorstellen kannst."

She clawed at his back, clutching him as the flames rose to meet them.

* * *

The two slept soundly.

Fredrick lay curled into Shosanna's side with his body protectively shielding her sleeping form, his face nestled in the curve of her neck and his arm draped across her midsection. Everything they were, everything they needed, was with one another. If they had been able to, they would have stayed like this; wrapped up in each other, blotting out the world.

It was, however, not meant to be.

The door swung open, startling Fredrick and Shosanna awake. In the doorway stood Edwige; posture unyielding, her face blank. Her voice was firm and even.

"It is time for you both to wake up."

Entering the room, she closed the door behind her and surveyed their surroundings: much of their dinner was untouched, the wine bottle half-empty, as it was evident that more wine was consumed than food. Clothes lay in tidy piles on the floor, and nearby was the waxy stump of a candle, burned down to the wick. Beside the bed was a half-crushed burgundy box, its neatly pressed contents spilling out. Bed sheets were strewn about, and there in the bed were the two bewildered lovers.

Unfazed by their nakedness, Edwige headed to the window at the foot of the bed and opened it, filling the room with the sounds of the city. She then stood before them, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Do you hear that?"

There was an urgency that was not present before, an excitable energy. The two sat up, with Fredrick, now on guard, positioning himself in front of Shosanna. Though there was not yet an apparent reason to be, she was now uneasy. Straightening, she nodded. Edwige placed her hands on her hips and took in a breath before speaking.

"You and those Allied men were not the only ones with an assassination plot. There were conspirators on the inside, as well. Their plan was to be enacted on the 20th. However, because you beat them to the punch, they pulled through to tie up some loose ends."

Shosanna and Fredrick were enthralled as she relayed this new information.

"Himmler was to be apprehended by them in Berlin. But once caught, he bit down on a cyanide capsule he was saving for just such an occasion."

Edwige then hesitated briefly before clearing her throat and continuing on. There was now a sense of dread, a tinge of worry to her voice.

"Charles de Gaulle has returned to Paris. Today is now officially Liberation Day. The last remains of German military forces have either been killed or driven out by the Resistance. Collaborators and those viewed as such are now at their mercy."

She paused, allowing for the seriousness of her statement to register with the two, watching as Shosanna leaned forward and into Fredrick. His darkened expression softened slightly as the young woman at his back circled her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, easing himself into the gesture.

Suddenly feeling like an intruder for witnessing such intimacy, Edwige lowered her eyes to the floorboards and spoke gently.

"There are still more details left to discuss. For now, I shall take my leave, but I will return shortly. It would be best for you both to ready yourselves."

With that, she left the two to themselves. Consumed with one another, they barely noticed her absence.

* * *

Shosanna and Fredrick stood before each other in the bathroom, their eyes fixed on one another. The two were almost at odds with each other.

The war was over, a fact which both should have been relieved and grateful for; but for the German War Hero and the Jewish Girl, there was still much more ahead of them. Their journey had not yet ended.

Once they stepped foot out of _Le Rossignol_, they both risked certain death, and all because they had survived long enough to find each other.

Separately, the two had spent more than enough of their lives surviving, which they had long since tired of. Assumed names and unassuming behavior, uniforms, perfect posture and set schedules which left no time for reflection, for respite.

All they had was one another.

They looked to the other for answers, but there were none to be found.

Fredrick broke down.

He wrapped his arms around Shosanna, crushing her to him; his face buried in her hair. She felt tremors overtake him as his body wracked with sobs; deep and pitiful from his very core.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Shosanna nestled her face into his chest. She quaked against him, and Fredrick felt as Shosanna, too, fell to pieces in his arms.

* * *

There was a turn in Fredrick, Shosanna noted, and she was not certain of how she felt.

After allowing themselves their bereavement, the two managed to fit themselves into the small bathtub together, at Fredrick's insistence. Shosanna positioned herself in front of him, her body relaxing against his as he worked to cover them both in lather.

Fredrick ran his slick hands over her, smoothing every line of her body, cradling every curve; every touch was deliberate and considerate. Though it was undeniably sensual, it was not sexual. It was, Shosanna realized depressingly, his way of memorizing her for what could possibly be the final time.

As he combed soapy fingers through her hair, Fredrick leaned into her, brushing his lips against her temple and whispering words of German into her ear,

"_Ich liebe dich mehr, als du dir je vorstellen kannst."_

Shosanna closed her eyes, already mourning the loss of his scent and traces from her skin.

* * *

They dressed in silence.

He, in his new slacks and tan dress shirt, and she, in a white button up blouse and black sacks left for her by Edwige.

Fredrick busied himself with another task, and Shosanna now stood at the sink in the bathroom, her eyes on her reflection as she pinned up her hair. Very shortly, the two would be meeting with Edwige one final time for their forged papers; the rest was left to fate.

Putting the last pin in place, Shosanna noticed that her hands were mildly shaking.

She had barely made it a few steps out of the bathroom before being rendered stock-still.

Situated at the desk across from the bed stood Fredrick, his face set in concentration at what was laid out before him.

A Luger.

It was in pieces; each one he was meticulously cleaning with nimble fingers and a scrap of cloth.

Who Fredrick was did not pose an issue for Shosanna; it was all that he had done and what he was capable of that she could not entirely reconcile.

He could take her body against his with absolute tenderness, just as he could brutally force a door open with the full strength of his body.

He could whisper lovingly to her in German, just as he could have a livid outburst in her native tongue.

He was the same young man she had made love to the previous night, and he was the same young man who had made love to her that morning.

And now, here he stood, his attention focused on the weapon in his hands.

Her insides knotted; she wanted to be ill.

Sensing her presence, Fredrick turned to acknowledge Shosanna, his mouth formed in a small smile. However, the sight of her made his face fall.

Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted; her mouth slack. As their eyes met, she unconsciously reached for her wrist.

He turned away from her, his shoulders sagging.

Neither could quite bring themselves to speak, but Shosanna made the effort. Her tone was calm, yet questioning,

"Fredrick?"

Taking in a breath, he raised his face to meet hers. She was still holding her wrist in front of her, and though standing straight with her shoulders squared, her features were softer. Shosanna was struggling, but she wanted to understand.

His own expression was steely, but wounded.

Neither could relent.

"You have had this with you the entire time."

Shosanna was not posing a question to Fredrick, so much as she was making an observation.

His jaw set.

He nodded.

In that moment, in the way she regarded him, recalled her demeanor in the projection booth: eying him warily and attempting to hold some distance between them. Though Fredrick could not fault her then nor now, his heart still wrenched. Swallowing hard, he sought to clarify the situation, speaking with unwavering resolve,

"It is for our protection, Shosanna."

He then sighed, giving himself a brief reprieve before pressing on,

"I had always found the notion of someone wanting to kill me absurd. I mean, I am aware of the ramifications of my actions in Italy. It's just that… I suppose I figured that I could put it all behind me; lay it to rest."

Fredrick gave her a weak smile and looked over the bits and pieces with resignation.

"But," he noted with grim finality, "I cannot."

It was held within his voice, present in his posture, written across his features; it was clear to Shosanna that Fredrick wearied of this as much as she. In order for the two to move forward together, their pasts had to be overcome. Parts of which, she knew, would remain ingrained in them; the German War Hero and the Jewish Girl.

Shosanna closed the distance between them, standing at his side. Releasing her wrist, she placed her hands on the edge of the desk, her fingertips brushing against the pieces of the pistol. Looking up at Fredrick, she held his gaze.

"Tell me about it."

There was a tension in her voice and features, but she was trying, which he more than appreciated.

With his eyes on hers, the corners of his mouth turned up.

"Oui, Shosanna."

Even as he went about expounding upon the Luger as he pieced it back together, she remained his focal point. She, too, was intent upon him, her eyes following his every gesture. She did not want to shy away from this, from him; from what was so much a part of him.

"This is the Luger P08 pistol; standard issue. Unlike the slide actions of other semi-automatic pistols, the Luger utilizes a toggle-lock action, which uses a jointed arm to lock. It holds the breech closed by locking in a manner not unlike the human knee, which can sustain a heavy weight when straight, and once bent, is rather easy to continue to bend."

Fredrick lifted the pistol off of the desk, holding it out for her to see as he pointed out further details,

"After a round is fired, the barrel and toggle - which are locked together at that point - travel straight rearward on rails due to recoil; roughly thirteen centimeters. The toggle then strikes a cam built into the frame, which causes the knee joint to hinge and the toggle and breech assembly to unlock."

He then raised the pistol, aiming away from the two of them, but not setting it on any particular target.

"The barrel stops its rearward movement, as it impacts the frame, and the toggle and breech assembly continue their movement, bending the knee joint due to momentum, extracting the spent casing from the chamber and ejecting it. Then, the toggle and breech assembly travel forward under spring tension and the next round from the magazine is loaded into the chamber."

Now lowering the pistol, Fredrick looked it over admirably.

"It all occurs within a fraction of a second."

His eyes came back to Shosanna's face; her head was tilted to the side, her brows knitted together. Her eyes were drawn to his hands, to how he handled the pistol with a fine precision and subtle grace.

His voice now took on an intimate tone.

"It is a fairly complicated pistol. It requires quite a bit of care and tolerance. Though accurate and powerful, it is complex."

Wordlessly, Shosanna reached for the Luger and Fredrick complied; passing it from his hands to hers. Gingerly, she held it, cradling the weight of it in her palms. Shosanna could feel his gaze as he eyed her; as her long, tapered fingers traced over every line and curve.

Lifting her face to his, their eyes met. That recognizable flicker was ever-present.

Tenderly, Fredrick took Shosanna's face into his hands, his eyes noticeably darkening and his mouth forming a near imperceptible smile as he studied her features. She was both startled and fascinated by the waiting, expectant gleam in his eyes; by the complete and total devotion.

He smiled his slow, crooked smile.

Bending forward, Fredrick touched his lips to hers, brushing his mouth lightly, lovingly, across her own.

A comfortable silence permeated the room; eyes closing, their breathing slowed, their pulses raced. Both were lost in each other.

Upon hearing the creak of the door, Fredrick broke away from Shosanna; his body straightening, he snatched the pistol from her hands, and tucking it away behind his back, he spun on his heel to face the intruder.

There, stood a mildly bemused Edwige, her arms holding garments and a small, olive colored suitcase.

"If you want to make an effort to conceal that, young man," she smirked, tossing a chocolate brown jacket at him, "then I suggest you put this on."

Without argument, Fredrick accepted both her advice and the article of clothing. Placing the piece of luggage on the desk, Edwige then looked the two over, examining their appearances. As he ran a hand through his hair, she approached him.

"Your haircut is far too distinctive," she assessed, "and it would surely give you away."

Shifting the contents in her arms, Edwige then produced a matching wool newsboy cap, which she then promptly placed on his head. As Shosanna helped him readjust it, Edwige smiled, pleased with the result.

"Until styling one's hair like that of a German soldier comes into fashion, then that should do the trick."

Turning back to the desk, she then opened the suitcase, laying the rest of the clothes in her arms beside it.

"I figured the two of you could use a few things, so I took the liberty of rummaging through the various scraps and remnants of my life which no longer serve any purpose for me."

Taking a moment to herself, Edwige looked over the items thoughtfully. Giving a smile, she then turned back to them.

"But, I suppose," she started, reaching into her pockets and removing folded papers, "that these will prove to be more useful to you both."

Taking the papers, Shosanna and Fredrick unfolded them, to be greeted by their new identities:

Rachel and Ernst Schwarzbaum.

"Simone figured it'd be best for you to pose as a married couple. I trust that this is not an issue?"

Looking to each other for confirmation, Shosanna and Fredrick exchanged small smiles.

"Non," he replied to Edwige, "not at all."

Folding her arms over her chest, Edwige held their attention as she briefed them on their backgrounds.

"Having fled Munich in 1938, Ernst, you arrived in Paris, wherein you met Rachel Stein. By 1940, the two of you married and have been living quietly since, until now."

Fredrick was especially captivated at the thought of sharing Shosanna's faith, of the two of them having shared a history. It was, above all, what he desperately wanted for the two of them.

With an excitement neither cared to restrain, the two looked over their papers, absorbing every detail.

Placing her hands on her hips, Edwige took on a more direct tone, snapping the two out of their reverie.

"Allied troops are moving in to secure Germany as it begins the task of rebuilding its government. As your luck would have it, the Americans are settling into Munich."

Fredrick came to a dead stop; he was at a loss for words. Offering a small measure of consolation, Shosanna reached out to him and placed her hand palm flat on his back, moving it in soothing circles.

The two now looked to Edwige with a near helplessness.

She was struck, in that moment, by just how young Shosanna and Fredrick were; despite their experiences, they were still only two kids trying to survive.

Edwige now softened, her tone sympathetic, yet retaining an edge,

"No matter what, get on that train, stick together, and keep your stories straight."

They nodded their heads in silent agreement, taking her words to heart.

Crossing her arms back over her chest, Edwige now had difficulty with holding eye contact.

"Pack your things," she instructed, her voice colored with emotion, "and meet me downstairs."

With that, Edwige turned away from them and made a hasty exit from the room, lest she risk losing her composure.

Fredrick released a jagged breath, his shoulders dropping. Absent-mindedly, he raised a hand to run through his hair, but was jarred to his senses at the feel of the cap instead. Shosanna futilely attempted to stifle a laugh, and Fredrick, too, could not help but smile at her reaction.

She was always his comfort.

Stepping closer, he took her into his arms, pressing her to him, with his face buried in the crook of her neck. Fredrick sighed against her, his voice small and distressed,

"Are we going to be okay?"

The warmth of his breath on her skin and the desperation in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. He felt as Shosanna nodded her head in response.

"Oui, Fredrick."

She then pulled back from him, taking his face into her hands. With her eyes meeting his, she repeated with total sincerity,

"_Oui, Fredrick._"

They had to be.

After everything, they had to be.

There was no other way.

* * *

They had packed in silence.

Shosanna stood at the desk, her eyes on the suitcase. Fredrick, leaning against the bedpost, thoughtfully observed her.

Everything they had left was now neatly folded and tucked away.

_Compartmentalized._

It seemed as though that was what her life had been relegated to; a constant restlessness as everything - _every little detail_ - was properly ordered and filed away, only to be cast into ruins.

_A constant pulling apart and restitching of the seams._

It was enough to drive her into hysterics if she had the energy and mind to.

He now approached her, standing at her back. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Fredrick brought his chin to rest on her shoulder. His voice was barely above a whisper,

"_It is time, Shosanna._"

She merely nodded her head.

Taking the suitcase in hand - feeling the weight of it, the strain - Shosanna and Fredrick left the room together, neither sparing a parting glance as they closed the door behind them.

* * *

Edwige resumed her position behind the desk. Liberation Day or not, she still had a business to run and appearances to keep up.

Shosanna and Fredrick both noticed the change in her demeanor, but neither outwardly acknowledged it. Instead, the two approached the desk as any other patron would. She was cordial, sticking to formalities and speaking in a clear, concise manner, her voice carrying through the lobby.

"Bonjour, Monsieur and Madame Schwarzbaum! I trust that your stay was pleasant?"

Taken aback, Fredrick did not immediately respond, but without missing a beat, Shosanna answered,

"Oui, Madame Molyneux, very much so! Ernst and I have never seen such an inn as lovely as _Le Rossignol_, nor have we ever been treated to such courteous service. We _almost_ hate to check out."

Edwige was now beaming, enjoying the banter.

"Ah, most excellent. Madame Schwarzbaum, how you flatter me! But you couldn't have chosen a better time, now that you are free to travel back to Munich. Knowing that Ernst's family there is safe must be such a relief."

Now more at ease, Fredrick joined in with a convincing performance.

"Oui! My mother, how she misses me," he exclaimed, with an expression of fond remembrance and a hand over his heart.

"And," he added, looking to Shosanna adoringly and putting an arm around her, "finally she will meet my beloved, Rachel."

Edwige grinned, clasping her hands to her chest.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Now, if you could - " she then slid a leather-bound guestbook in front of him, " - sign here please."

Fredrick grabbed the fountain pen with flourish.

"Oui! Of course!"

Both Edwige and Shosanna watched Fredrick closely as he signed their names where indicated. Eying the signatures with satisfaction, Edwige reached under the desk, producing a brown paper envelope.

"Please," she smiled, "accept this as a token of appreciation."

Without falter or a second thought, Fredrick accepted the item and quickly shoved it into his jacket pocket. His eyes meeting hers, his voice cracked around the edges,

"Merci, Madame Molyneux."

Edwige gave them a thin smile, her voice choking,

"Au revoir, my dears. Do remember that if you should ever return to Paris, there will always be a room waiting for you."

All three were now struggling for emotional restraint; now was not the time to break.

Pursing her lips, Shosanna nodded. Picking up the suitcase in one hand, and taking Fredrick's hand into the other, all she could manage was a weak,

"_Au revoir_."

Edwige watched as the two then left _Le Rossignol_ and disappeared out into the streets. In her time during the war, she had seen many couples come and go; but now, she could not help but feel a twinge of worry over the Jewish Girl and her German War Hero.

Directing her eyes back to the guestbook, Edwige gave a smile - if only a little - at the signatures left behind.

_M. Zoller & Mlle. Dreyfus_

_

* * *

_

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He breathed in the scent of her; lingering traces of the perfumed soap. He clutched her to him; her small, soft form against his hard body.

He felt her quaking in his arms; laughing, crying.

The two had ducked into an alleyway to share one last private moment before having to face the raucous crowds. It was here that they had also decided to have a look at the contents in the envelope Edwige had given them.

Shosanna now looked up into Fredrick's face. Smiling widely at him, she wiped the tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand. She opened her mouth, but no words came; only a laugh of astonishment. Fredrick's lips parted, as if to speak, but he, too, was rendered speechless. Instead, he lowered his face to hers, his mouth mere inches above her own.

Shosanna could feel his racing heart, hear it pounding within his chest as their eyes met; they were transfixed with one another. Taking hold of his shirt collar within her hands, she tipped her head up; their lips touching.

Closing their eyes, they eased into each other, losing themselves to one another.

The contact, though brief, was exhilarating.

Bracing themselves, they turned to face the world. Fredrick offered Shosanna a crooked smile and took her hand firmly in his own, his other hand reaching protectively into his jacket pocket, over the torn envelope filled with a thick roll of franc notes.

* * *

The crowds were unavoidable. The entire populace, it seemed, was out in the streets, with more and more people joining in the fanfare.

Nearly every person Shosanna and Fredrick passed by gave them a smile, or a pat on the back; some even hugged them, as if they were all life-long friends.

The two returned the smiles and forged ahead; as joyous of an occasion this was, it held no place for them. Shosanna led the way, cutting through backstreets and alleyways, with Fredrick right alongside her. Both were desperate to reach the train station, to leave everything behind.

Even engulfed in the noise of the city and immersed in the public spectacle, Fredrick was steadfast and hyper-aware of his surroundings; though the possible consequences of his being found out were deadly, Shosanna held his focus.

He had to protect her at any cost.

There now were voices that carried over the masses, voices which made Fredrick give pause and Shosanna slow her gait; there was an anger present that was not felt before. The two couldn't quite see the source of it through the horde at first, and carefully - hands still joined, never parting - they edged forward to where the sidewalk and cobblestone met.

Shosanna's eyes widened, her mouth agape.

There, in the street before them, for all to see, was an array of women, from teenagers to the middle-aged. Standing guard were armed members of the Resistance.

They were all women Shosanna recognized; some she had seen out at the cafes, others had been patrons at _Le Gamaar_. All had been in the company of Germans. They were, however, French citizens, just as she was, living the best they could during the Occupation. Now they were forced into being a public spectacle, before an enraged audience to repent for their supposed sins.

One of the young women had become hysterical, dropping to her knees and sobbing.

It was Babette.

Her tears and pleas were fruitless, serving only to stir more vitriol from the crowd.

Fredrick immediately stood closer to Shosanna, shoulder-to-shoulder. Her insides lurched and twisted; if it were not for the strength of him and his support, she too, surely would have collapsed to her knees.

One of the Resistance members overseeing the situation approached Babette, flanked by two other men. Violently, he jerked her up, raking his eyes over her with disgust. The other two, now standing on either side of her, yanked Babette to her feet, propping her up as her body had how gone slack.

As they berated and taunted her, the man produced a straight-razor. Wasting no time, he went to work hacking away at her hair; lush, dark curls falling away and revealing the pale skin of her scalp.

The mass roared with approval, and Babette's face crumpled in grief.

Shosanna and Fredrick watched on in utter disbelief. She felt nauseated; her palms were moist with sweat, and her throat had gone dry as she worked to suppress the rising bile in her stomach.

Babette raised her bleary eyes to the congregation; in their direction. She said not a word, but Shosanna was certain she had recognized them.

The two of them were, Shosanna noted grimly, her only allies.

There was nothing either of them could do to help Babette; not if they had wanted to survive to see Munich.

Disturbed and sickened, Shosanna squeezed Fredrick's hand tightly. Closing her eyes, she then turned away, with him following closely behind as she blindly pushed her way through the swarm of bodies. Once they broke free, Shosanna quickened her pace to a jog. Holding onto her, Fredrick matched her stride as she cut a path through the streets and alleyways.

Finally, after rounding a corner, she came to a stop, her breath heavy, her lungs burning. Face flushed, Shosanna looked to Fredrick, her eyes clouded with an infinite sadness.

He did not question, he did not argue.

His own chest heaving as he regained his breath, he met her gaze; his eyes were dark and glistening.

Fredrick stepped closer, pulling her tense body against his, his arms caging her to him. Shosanna stood in the circle of his sheltering embrace, shaking. Though his hands moved softly and soothingly on her back, Fredrick was overcome with a rage and sadness that almost surprised him. As a soldier, he was trained to think, not to feel; he was driven by instinct. He now felt, more then ever, that instinct to survive, which powered him in the bell tower.

But more than survive, it told him to _protect_.

_Protect her._

He could not fail her.

Fredrick sighed, his body shuddering. Jerking her head up, Shosanna looked to him. Slowly, he raised his hand up, bringing it to cup the side of her face. Leaning forward and into her, tentatively, he kissed her; his lips a light touch upon hers.

In spite of herself, she smiled.

Taking her hand in his once more, Fredrick and Shosanna moved onward.

* * *

It was, they had known, an unavoidable sight in their journey. She had planned its destruction and both had watched as it burned. Still, neither could help but stand in a stupor before it.

In the bright light of day, it was entirely different from the fiery behemoth it was that night.

It was a proud monument to film.

It was where Shosanna had worked and lived, alongside Madame Mimieux and Marcel.

Now, it was a charred, ruined husk of what it once was.

Flowers and momentos were piled around the entrance and front of the theater, all for the Allies and for Emmanuelle Mimieux; for their brave sacrifice.

Above it all, over the marquee, was Fredrick; his half-burned, though still handsome visage proudly staring out over the horizon, like a sentinel standing guard over the remains of _Le Gamaar_.

As more and more people gathered to pay their respects to Emmanuelle, Shosanna and Fredrick turned away.

That part of their lives was now over.

* * *

The two were near exhaustion as finally, they had reached the train station.

With the generous amount of money given to them by Edwige, Shosanna and Fredrick were able to afford first class tickets and their own little room. Both were more than ready to have time alone together, and once they could set foot on the train, they knew that half the battle would already be over.

As they checked their luggage and prepared for boarding, Shosanna gave Paris one, last backward glance. Amongst the throng of well-wishers, she caught a glimpse of Genevieve Molyneux amongst them, smiling and waving.

* * *

Her back was against the wall with his body pressed to hers. She could feel the heat of him, even through the barriers of their clothes.

His mouth on hers was demolishing, yet tender. Again and again, he kissed her, his breath catching in an almost painful knot in his throat as he absorbed the gratifying, alluring warmth of her mouth.

Her hands tightening on him, running over his chest, she marveled at the strength of him; of the crush of his body over hers. He was always such a contradiction, her German War Hero.

Raising his hands to her face, he held her focus as it narrowed and honed in on him; his own attention to her resolute. There was nothing else.

His fingertips traced over her jawline and further up, to her cheekbones. Her mouth on his, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Sinking into her, feeling her tongue slide alongside his, he trailed over the contours of her face, smoothing his thumb over her scar.

Closing her eyes, she shuddered, sighing into his mouth.

For long moments, Shosanna and Fredrick remained like this; lost. Lost in the feel and taste of each other, lost in the sensation of being together; after everything, they needed _this_, needed each other.

She wanted more.

He wasn't holding back from her - Fredrick never did - but after the events of the day, he held a strict control over his body; control Shosanna wanted him to release. Here, in the confines of their room, she wanted to forget, she wanted to remember. Most of all, she wanted to _feel_.

Fredrick understood. He _had_ to.

She broke beneath him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt, pulling him tighter against her. He responded with a heavy sound, deep and low in his throat. Wrapping his arms around her, the kiss grew harder, fiercer.

He was warm; so very warm and so very close now.

He could feel her heartbeat, so wild, so fervent. And he could feel her heat; feel as it pooled wet between her legs as she pressed against him.

Shosanna wanted more of Fredrick. In her desire for him, she pulled at his dress shirt, along with his undershirt, yanking the layers of clothing loose from his slacks and slipping her hands up underneath the shirts, seeking his warmth.

"_Shosanna_," his voice came low and rough against her lips.

She persisted, not able to hold back; her hands still under his shirts, stroking over him. She could feel his muscles contract and relax with her touch, the pace of his heart rate quicken, feel him shiver as her thumb brushed over a nipple.

"Shosanna," he was firmer now, though his voice cracked, if only slightly, adding a new dimension of emotion.

She stilled her actions, her hands now palm flat on his chest. She could feel the rise and fall of it; his breaths came slow and heavy as his pulse eased. There was a stitch in his brow, his eyes darkening as he studied her features.

Her lips parted, but no words came, just a gasp; soft and breathy.

Bringing his hands from her body up to frame her face and sliding fingers into her hair, Fredrick now bowed his head to Shosanna. In response, she tipped her face up to meet his, their noses barely touching. Her hands on his chest slid to his back, gripping. His body tensed, his lips quirked.

There was no space between them. Her breathing had changed, quickened, and with each shallow pant, her breasts moved against his chest. His body shifted against hers, the heat of him stirring in his lower abdomen. She could feel how hard he was for her.

Fredrick brushed his nose against her cheek and down along her jaw, slowly exhaling in her ear. Taking in her shiver, he sighed.

Another sound escaped her, low and uneven. Pulling back from Shosanna, he let his gaze settle on her face. Mouth wet, she stared up at him.

There was still much left to declare between them. They could feel it now, more than ever; could feel as the weight of their feelings and the gravity of their actions bore down on them.

Their eyes meeting, not a word passed between them.

The next chapter in their lives together was only beginning.


	8. It All Could Be Different But It's Not

The two had spent their time confined to their room, whiling away their time with each other; making love.

Shosanna was now sitting up in bed, her back against the wall and a lit cigarette between her fingers. Fredrick sat slouched between her legs, resting against her. Both relaxed in the comfortable stillness, with nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the smooth jouncing of the train as it carried them to its destination. For the time being, they were safe. Once again, they had found their solace with one another.

Closing his eyes and taking in a breath, Fredrick smiled. Shosanna ran a hand through his hair, taking notice of his contentment.

"Fredrick?"

Eyes still closed, his smile widened.

"Oui?"

She pursed her lips; almost hesitant, yet curious.

"Will I like Munich?"

Fredrick nodded his head.

"Oui, you will."

Brushing back his rogue forelocks, she tilted her head to the side.

"How can you be certain?"

Opening his eyes, he turned his face up to her, smile still in place.

"Because," he told her, with an edge of playfulness, "I will be there with you."

Though she laughed, Fredrick could feel Shosanna shifting against him. Straightening up, he repositioned himself so that he was now facing her. Shosanna's brows were knitted together, her mouth set in a thin line. Fredrick bent forward, taking her face in his hands, his voice sincere,

"My sisters - _my family_ - are there; they will welcome you with open arms, Shosanna."

She softened, if only somewhat; her features were marked with concern.

"How do you know that?"

The corners of his mouth turned up, and he gave a small shrug.

"I had written to them about you. They know of you; of what I feel for you."

Shosanna lowered her eyes, taking a moment to absorb his words before looking back to him.

"But Fredrick," she prompted him, "that was Emmanuelle. Not Shosanna."

He was steadfast, moving his hands from her face to her waist. Leaning forward, Fredrick rested his forehead against hers. His voice was low, gentle,

"You are still the same person. I still feel the same as I did before."

Shosanna placed her hand on the side of his face. Her voice, too, was quiet,

"But what of them?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied bluntly, "but I told them all about you. About _Le Gamaar_. About us."

She closed her eyes at the feel of his breath against her skin. Her fingers now traced over the side of his face; features she had come to memorize.

"If you were to step foot into _Das Kino Haus_," Fredrick went on, "they would know who you were. It's all from my letter; sheer description. I think of that, Shosanna, all I had written…"

His voice drifted off, briefly distracted as her hand slid to his neck and trailed down to his chest where she held it there, palm flat. He took in a breath.

"…I could only think then, of how it would feel for me to be with you."

Shosanna opened her eyes, fixing them on her hand on his chest; his heartbeat.

"It almost seemed impossible to be with you, Fredrick. Almost wrong."

"It's not, though," he stressed. "It's not. That moment I had first laid my eyes on you, in the lobby - you were so striking; like a dream. I had _almost_ thought as though I were being punished to find you. It seemed like a deserved fate for what I had done, to find you; to love you."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his.

"I don't know why it is that we have had to hurt so much, Shosanna, why it's been so hard for us. But we can't turn back, you have shown me that much. No matter what is placed in front of us, we have to get through it."

There was more that he wanted to say, but he held back. Shosanna said nothing, prolonging the silence.

Fredrick sighed.

She spread her fingers wide on his chest, flexing them; squeezing. His heart beat faster against her palm.

Finally, she spoke, her voice small.

"Everything's so different."

She watched as his jaw clenched.

He nodded.

"I know," he breathed.

Shosanna inched closer to Fredrick.

His fingers bent at the knuckle and opened out again, moving further down from her waist to her hips. Gripping; not pulling her toward him, but clearly intending to.

Her hand left his chest, and was now again on the side of his face. There was a kind of sadness in her touch; Fredrick gripped harder, holding on. Flicking away the end of her cigarette, Shosanna brought her other hand up to his cheek, now cradling his face in her hands. Her forehead still against his, she slanted her head to the side, and her lips moved forward, kissing him; lightly, shyly, briefly.

His body reacting immediately, he groaned.

Fredrick pulled Shosanna to him, crushing himself against her. She wrapped her legs around him, feeling the warm pulse of him, of his arousal. He buried his face in the curve of her neck; he wanted to look her in the face, but she held him fast.

"I want you, Shosanna. To be with you," he murmured into her skin, "all of the time."

"_Fredrick_," she sighed with a sting of impatience, wanting for what was between them to declare itself.

Shosanna rocked her hips against him, and instinctively, he thrust back; feeling, touching, but not yet joining. The two found themselves within a physical desperation, and it seemed that nothing more had to be said as it was of a lesser importance; something that could wait.

They leaned back from each other, to face one another. With his forelocks falling into his face and his wide-eyed countenance, Fredrick appeared so completely innocent; something untouched and unspoiled by their harsh reality. And yet, there in his gaze was that glint, that _flicker_.

The world outside was far too simple, far too cruel to claim his allegiance, and to an extent, to be taken seriously.

Shosanna was all that he wanted, all that he needed. She, too, knew that she felt the same for him. The two experienced the confusion of people whose lives moved on a faster course than their imaginations. Collisions of will from two people who were both very different, but so completely similar. Their shared lapses into silence and private moments - such as the one they now had found themselves within - exposed just how fragile they were.

Shosanna wrapped her arms around Fredrick, holding him with such a sudden fierceness that it broke his breath in two. Fredrick moved his hands down her back, and Shosanna remained perfectly still, embracing him with unyielding strength.

They held each other.

He knew that she was with him and he could feel how much she wanted him.

There were times, in their short relationship, in which Fredrick felt as though he were destined to love Shosanna. He had felt foolish about that for the times, such as in the restaurant, when he tried hard in vain to appeal to her, all while wearing his dress uniform decorated with his medals. Even that night, when returning to his quarters after the screening of _Glückskinder_, Fredrick looked himself over forlornly in that grand, wide mirror and it was then that he knew.

He knew that if there was any justice in the world, if it did indeed have anything to do with the unfolding of the universe and the workings of human life as he knew it, then he did not deserve to be with Shosanna. He was Fredrick Zoller, the unintentional German War Hero and she was outside of it all; separate, something special. Loving her was not his birth right, but something he would have to get away with.

He could not yet bring himself to tell her about the nightmares and the terror and the rage that could have such a stranglehold on him. She had glimpsed that in the projection booth the night she saved his life; the mere thought of it made him sick.

"I want to make love," her voice hushed and fraught, "I want to feel you, Fredrick."

"I want to, Shosanna," he responded, his own voice barely audible and his heart beginning to break.

* * *

It was all so wonderful, so perfect when they made love.

They didn't talk of anything. They were beyond thought, beyond speech, communicating by touch alone. There was nothing but the two of them; his mouth on hers, with skin against skin, their limbs entwining and bodies moving.

It was overwhelming, to feel each other so close.

When she cried out, with her skin flushing and body shaking, he too, found his own release. As she curled into him, lying upon his chest, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him. There was never anything more than the two of them.

* * *

His mind wandered.

Her face nestled into his chest, Shosanna slept soundly, the sound of her hushed breathing a quiet comfort.

Though he, too, was fatigued, he could not yet sleep. Fredrick loved these moments.

Moments from when he moved within her, his fingers threaded through her hair, their eyes locked on each other, to now; moments in which they shared their mutual silence, with her curled into his side. In these moments, the trauma and nightmares were soothed as he lay beside her.

He loved her.

Yet still, Fredrick's mind wandered.

It was almost too much to have her there with him; to even be with him at all. When Fredrick was fifteen, there was a girl, Lena, whom he cared for very much. She lived in the city with her parents and three older brothers. In a way, Fredrick could relate to her on that level, which allowed for them both to connect almost immediately. No matter what was playing at _Das Kino Haus_, Lena was always in attendance as long as Fredrick was there in the projection booth. In turn, his attention was focused less on the film and more on her presence; watching her as she watched the story unfolding onscreen, attempting to gauge her reaction. Lena, admittedly, was not a film fan, but she clearly adored Fredrick as he adored her.

Their relationship, however the two defined it, never did grow beyond holding hands and stealing glances. Fredrick was hesitant to, for as tender as it was, he feared overstepping his boundaries, of somehow damaging it; what he had with Lena, he determined, was something special. Though once he reached the age of sixteen, all folly was forced aside, as Fredrick had no choice but to begin militaristic training for Wehrmacht.

He never did see Lena again.

Fredrick thought of her periodically, when huddled in the trenches and seeking rest in his cot, surrounded by equally frightened, uncertain young men. However, she soon faded from memory. Most nights, he sobbed quietly to himself. There was no comfort, and no matter how much he sought it from his memories, there was none to be found. Trapped in the bell tower, Fredrick thought of his family and he thought of home. There was nothing else.

That all changed that night in June, when he locked eyes with a theater proprietor in Paris, France.

Fredrick may have known her then as Emmanuelle, but Shosanna became his comfort. Upon returning to his quarters, his body flushing with warmth, Fredrick thought of her; her body as warm as his, soft, bare, and pressed against him, her voice melodious and breathy in his ear. The thought of her gave him a release he hadn't - if ever - felt in so very long. Fredrick almost could have felt guilty for thinking of her in such a way if he weren't convinced that he was meant to have found her.

She was the reason he had to wear the uniform. She was the reason he was left chilled and trembling in a tent in unfamiliar territory. She was the reason why he was in that bell tower. She was the reason why he relived the ordeal on film. She was the reason. Shosanna Dreyfus was the reason. Shosanna Dreyfus was _everything_.

It was a divine madness to love her.

Fredrick wondered then, as to how his life would be without her. It was, in all honesty, something he didn't like to dwell upon. But now, with their relationship defined and acknowledged, the two of them on their way to his home in Munich, he could not resist.

If he had made it this far without Shosanna - _I wouldn't have_ - would he be returning to Lena?

_If anyone at all?_

Fredrick decidedly did not like such a possibility.

It was then that he took on a different line of thought; the notion of Fredrick, age sixteen, knowing Shosanna at age nineteen.

Their circumstance would not have allowed for such a course of events, but still he pondered.

Such a time was a difficult transition for Fredrick. Seemingly overnight, he was thrust from boyhood into adulthood; training militaristically, he saw less and less of his family as the powers that be were intent upon indoctrinating him to believe in and fight for their cause. Internalizing his emotions, Fredrick followed orders and over-exerted himself physically and mentally in order to survive. There was no rest, no consolation.

_How different it would be_, Fredrick thought, _if only I had known her then_.

If he had the mind to and the will for it, he would have deserted. He had given thought to it, on certain nights when the tears weren't enough, when he was sure that he'd finally reached his breaking point.

Only it never came.

It was the thought of his family that made Fredrick see it through. If he were able to leave it all behind and survive, after all, he doubtlessly would not have been able to see Munich ever again.

_But if I had._

Perhaps then, Fredrick could have escaped to France. To the countryside. To the Dreyfuses.

_Shosanna._

Perhaps then, he could've been of some help to them. Perhaps Shosanna wouldn't have lost her family.

The two would have been lovers, even then. It wouldn't have been wrong.

_We'd need each other then, too._

He thought of how it would have been, if he had been her only lover, as she was his. To become newly acclimated with each other, to feel and experience every touch, every sensation together for the first time.

_Marcel._

Fredrick held no ill will toward the projectionist; he hardly even knew him. He was, however, grateful that Shosanna had someone she could be close to; a confidant. The life she had lived for the previous four years was tenuous enough. To be alone for all that time would've been enough to drive anyone out of their mind.

But the fact remained that Fredrick and Shosanna would have loved each other then as they loved each other now. No matter where and when they had met, that would never change.

He now watched her as she slept, watched her rise and fall with his chest; with every intake of breath.

Fredrick sighed.

There was much he wanted to say, to tell her. Now, though, was not the time. For now, she very much needed her rest.

For now, the two would have their solace.

When, and exactly how he'd broach the subject, he was not yet certain of.

Perhaps he would wait until Munich.

Perhaps until after she met his family; he very much wanted Shosanna to meet Helga.

Perhaps until after they got settled. He looked forward to having a stable home life again; to have that with her.

Perhaps, until then.

Then, he could tell her; of young dead men, of huddling into a corner of the bell tower where he cowered and wept. Of the constant point, aim, and shoot; of not wanting to spill blood, but of very much wanting to survive. Of how he could leave that bell tower, yet not leave it behind; of the nightmares, of just how deeply within him the trauma was rooted.

Perhaps until then.

Not now.

Not with her curled into his side, her faced buried in his chest.

Not with her soft breathing and the gentle thrum of her heart.

Not now.

Closing his eyes, Fredrick gave himself up to the steady rhythm of Shosanna's body.

* * *

It was evening when they had awoken, and both were in need of sustenance. Fortunately for them, the dining car was still open. They redressed in their clothes from that day, which were now a bit rumpled from having been strewn about the floor for a period of time. Shosanna, now wearing her hair down, loose and tousled - which was endlessly alluring to Fredrick - helped him put his cap in place, which he had grown quickly to dislike.

"It's uncomfortable," he complained.

"It's necessary," she reminded him.

"Fine," he conceded with a grin, "it's uncomfortably necessary."

Rolling her eyes, Shosanna took Fredrick's hand in hers, and the two set off for dinner.

* * *

There were only a few travelers in the dining car at that time of evening, which neither minded. Seated at a table for two - with Fredrick's back to the rest of the car - they were seen to by a waiter. As they looked over their menus, Shosanna eyed the rest of the passengers, which consisted of a single, older gentleman, and a middle-aged couple. Relaxing, she and Fredrick both ordered: chicken with a side of vegetables and red wine for her, a sandwich and - much to his delight - German coffee for him.

As they waited, Fredrick leaned forward, setting his left elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. Shosanna sat back in her seat and regarded him amusedly.

"You do that quite a bit," she observed.

Fredrick raised his brows.

"Pardon?"

Smirking, Shosanna sat forward, giving a nod of her head.

"Your hands. You give yourself away with your hands."

Looking to his hand, Fredrick sat up straight and then lowered it to the table, a blush rising to his face.

"Non, non, I like that," she assured him, her voice softly lilting.

Fredrick looked at her sheepishly from beneath the brim of his cap.

"You do?"

Shosanna smiled in confirmation.

"I do."

Fredrick brightened, his left hand raising back to its prior position in an attempt to mask the grin spreading across his face.

Now encouraged, she moved in closer, her voice taking on a more intimate tone as she elaborated,

"It's all of the little details about you, too. Such as how you dress; the way you button your shirts and how you pay such close attention to your fingers as you go along. Then you tuck it into your slacks and smooth out all the material. And your hair - "

Shosanna paused, her head slightly to the side, eying him.

Fredrick brought his right elbow to the table, clasping it with his left as he listened to her.

" - you brush it back with such brisk motions, and so frequently, as if not one strand can be out of place. That's how it is with you: feeling, seeing. From how you dress, to your posture, and how you style your hair, everything must always be so presentable..."

_Like a soldier._

Without finishing her thought aloud, Shosanna sat back, both of them thinking on her words; a change in mood taking over.

The reality of their situation, of who they were, never failed to startle her. It was always there, trickling into every thought, every detail; bleeding and staining. As he watched her, his eyes warm and dark, Shosanna knew that on some level, he felt it, too.

She then laid her hand flat on the table. Without reproach, Fredrick let down his left hand, sliding it across to her; their fingertips touching.

Almost timidly, he reached out further to her, his fingertips running up and over hers, over the nail beds and farther up, smoothing over her knuckles. Fredrick then withdrew, only to repeat the action; the touch.

Shosanna held her breath; waiting.

Emboldened, Fredrick went further, laying his hand, warm and firm, over hers. His eyes darted from their hands to her face, and settled there; their eyes meeting.

It was then that Shosanna felt _something_ within her distinctly break, flooding her with a warmth that settled in her very core.

There was more, she knew, that he wanted to do, wanted to say; it was clear in his actions, within his eyes, and plain upon his face. But before he had that chance, the waiter arrived with their orders.

Fredrick retracted his hand from hers. The moment, for the time being, had passed.

The two ate their meals in near silence, occasionally stealing glances from each other. It was in all the little things, as Shosanna had explained to Fredrick, that made them realize just how much neither could ever part from the other; from how Shosanna drank her wine with her eyes looking up and into his over the rim of the glass, to how meticulous Fredrick could be, even with his food. It was these details that they memorized; the secret parts of themselves that both revealed more and more to each other.

Having been accustomed to fine cuisine for some time now, Fredrick took his time, whereas Shosanna, having lived on rations, was ravenous. It was something he hadn't taken the time to consider before now; watching her, he thought of Shosanna living her life as Emmanuelle, sequestered away in _Le Gamaar_.

Reaching for her glass of wine, she raised her eyes to see that Fredrick appeared distracted; his jaw set, he rubbed his fingers together agitatedly.

Eyes meeting hers, his trance was broken and he snapped to attention. Giving her a kind smile, Fredrick said not a word. Watching as he picked up his coffee cup, Shosanna decided that whatever it was that was on his mind, she would not press him; not there, not now. Instead, she opted for light banter.

"That's an interesting choice."

With the cup at his lips, Fredrick looked to her, puzzled.

"Hm?"

"Coffee. Isn't that a bit much to have with dinner?"

Taking a sip, Fredrick shook his head.

"It would be, if it were like the coffee in France."

Shosanna lifted a brow.

He smiled - _she could be so easily riled_ - and brought the cup back to his lips.

She watched him expectantly, awaiting a clarification.

"This is German coffee, which is quite different," he carried on, "it does not have a bitter taste, unlike other coffees."

Fredrick then held the cup out to Shosanna, offering it to her. She willingly accepted it with both hands, looking into the cup before taking a sip. As she tasted it, Fredrick watched her, gauging her reaction. Shosanna was pleasantly surprised by the coffee, as it was not bitter, but sweet and rich.

Bringing his head to rest in his hands, he recited,

"The coffee must be as black as the devil

As hot as hell

As pure as an angel

As sweet as love."

Shosanna screwed her face up at him in jest as Fredrick smiled, _almost_ smugly.

Placing the cup back into its saucer, she looked over their empty plates.

"We can manage dessert, can't we?" she asked.

He was immediately struck by her words; incredibly moved that she had said we, especially so casually, that he could not quite vocalize a response. And before he had a chance to, Shosanna sat up and stiffened, her eyes looking past him.

Without giving a second thought, Fredrick turned and looked over his shoulder, at the older couple approaching their table.

He turned back to her, his expression eerily calm, but Shosanna could see that within his eyes, he was panicking. Squaring her shoulders, she put her hands in her lap and took in a breath; she would be the one to take control of this situation.

The couple appeared friendly enough, though both - especially the man - were clearly tipsy, if not entirely drunk. Their chances of identifying Fredrick, Shosanna deduced, were slim, but she remained uneasy at having to engage the couple.

The man, heavy-set with graying hair, was practically teetering. His wife, short and thin with a dark bob, stood close next to him; she was obviously supporting the weight of him against her small frame. Though she slurred her words a little, the woman was polite. She was English, and spoke in accented French,

"Excuse me, I… _we_ don't mean to be a bother, but my husband here saw the two of you and - "

The man, her husband, barged in, loud and abrasive. He was, unlike his wife, French.

"The war is over! Isn't it so beautiful?"

The woman gave him a smile, as if he were charming Shosanna and Fredrick rather than annoying them. She picked up where she left off, as if their presence wasn't at all a nuisance.

"Yes - er, _oui_. We overheard you talking, and he could not help but hear that you're French! He - and me, of course - is just so happy with the end of the war and the occupation."

Her husband, "We drove them out, those beasts! It's so beautiful! So grand!"

Shosanna, eyes wide and openly alarmed, gave Fredrick a quick look; both of his hands were on the table, balled into fists, his eyes downcast. She knew she had to keep the couples' attention onto her and away from him.

Giving her best, convincing smile, Shosanna brought their focus onto her,

"Oui! We are, and we are very relieved. Now we can get back to our lives."

The woman smiled, but her husband awkwardly gestured to Fredrick.

"What of him? Did he not fight for our country? Our beautiful France?"

Fredrick, at a loss, raised his head, his eyes widening. Swallowing hard, Shosanna cut in, nearly panic-stricken,

"He is Jewish! As am I; we lived in hiding - "

Swaying now, with his wife striving to sustain him, the man interrupted, his voice emotional,

"What a crime! What a crime against you! Those hun bastards! Those Krauts!"

Then, bending forward, the woman made an attempt to speak conspiratorially to her, but it came out garbled and loud,

"If it were not for my brother in Munich, we would never step foot in that country!"

Mouth agape, Shosanna could see out of the corner of her eye that was Fredrick wilting from their words. Her demeanor now faltering, she worked to keep the conversation as neutral as possible,

"Oui, monsieur, madame, oui. But we are now looking forward to living our lives."

The man grew more emotional, and his wife gave them a smile; meant to be a demonstration of camaraderie, it instead appeared quite nearly demented.

_Is this what has become of the world?_

The wife, too, was now losing her composure.

"It is a shame that two young people such as yourselves have had to live through this war."

"It is a crime!" Her husband repeated.

"Oui, it is a crime," she echoed, her eyes on Shosanna.

She understood that the married couple, much like she and Fredrick, were thrilled that the war was over, but they had worn out their welcome and were now overbearing. Shosanna had no patience for it. She wanted to end this, she had to end this, but the man had become more impassioned, his voice growing louder. The other gentleman in the car, she had noticed, had grown as weary of this as she had, and quietly slipped away, leaving Shosanna and Fredrick with the couple.

The man was now leaning forward, toward her; bellowing. Shosanna could smell the pungent aroma of alcohol on his breath as he let loose a tirade against the Germans. None of it made any sense to her, as his words were running together. She shrank back from him, no longer concerned with offending the strangers. The woman held onto her husband, nodding along with his every word.

Shosanna could not help but look to Fredrick; the tension in his face and body was now visible. With his brow creased, there was a tightness in his face and jaw, and his hands were clenched hard enough that his knuckles were white. She thought of the Luger; how he still must have had it on him.

Her mind now turned to ugly possibilities. Possibilities that left her ashamed; ashamed for associating such violence with Fredrick, and ashamed for being so frightened by it.

"…Good riddance to them all," the man ranted, "they all burned. Even the war hero! Every last one of them. _Filth_…"

Shosanna watched Fredrick with bated breath, watched him as he closed his eyes and lowered his head. The man went on, unleashing an inarticulate string of profanities directed at not only the Nazi hierarchy, but at the German War Hero, as well; a young man he was unaware was in his presence.

He inhaled and exhaled hard through his nose, and flattening his hands on the surface of the table for leverage, Fredrick noisily and forcibly stood from his seat; the legs of the chair scraping against the floor, the table shaking, rattling the glassware and silverware. He then reached into his pocket - Shosanna tensed, waiting - and threw down a handful of franc notes to pay for their meal. Fredrick's eyes met with hers, and he could see her apprehension, her fear; could see as it faded upon her sudden realization that he intended no harm.

Fredrick turned away from her and shoved his way past the couple - both were too wrapped up in themselves to be nonplussed - and hurriedly made his way out of the car.

Shosanna, blanching at herself for her reaction, rose from the table. Without bothering to give the couple any reason or explanation, she left after Fredrick, her heart sinking.


	9. The Past Is a Grotesque Animal

Fredrick had made it to their room before she did.

As she opened the door to their quarters, Shosanna found him sitting on the bed in the dark and muttering German under his breath. She reached for the light switch located by the doorway, bathing the room in a warm, amber glow.

Shosanna could see that Fredrick sat hunched over, wringing his hands. The sleeves of his shirt were unbuttoned and shoved up past his elbows, with his jacket laying rumpled at his feet. On the floor was their suitcase, which had obviously been thrown into the wall. It now laid open, its contents scattered about the floor; nestled in the mess was the Luger. Nearby was his cap; his hair was already a disheveled mess from putting his hands through it, as he was prone to do.

Yet another detail about him she had memorized.

Without a word, she went to him; offering a more physical comfort, Shosanna ran a hand through his hair. Straightaway, Fredrick reached up, wanting to take her hand in his. However, his sudden movement startled her, causing her to flinch and him to grab ahold of her wrist; the same wrist he had injured in the projection booth. It was taken as an aggressive gesture.

They both froze, their eyes on each other. Shosanna wanted to comfort Fredrick, to be there for him, but this was an unfamiliar side to him she was not entirely prepared to handle. Both were aware of this.

He looked away from her, his hand loosening its grasp and falling away as she stepped back from him.

Fredrick loved her, that she knew; it was in the way that he touched her, held her, looked at her. He whispered it to her in German as they lay together, declared it to her in French when they made love.

Fredrick Zoller loved Shosanna Dreyfus, it was never in doubt.

Yet now, even as she watched him fall to pieces, a part of her screamed at her to leave, to turn away and not look back. It was the part of her that fought for survival beneath the floorboards of the farmhouse, the part of her that could so easily conjure up a plan to burn down a cinema, the part of her that ordered her to take hold of that pistol and take aim at his back. That seething wound that could never fully heal.

But she could not; she knew that.

She loved Fredrick, even though she couldn't bring herself to say the words just yet, even though she could have very well pulled that trigger.

In spite of her fearfulness and her hesitation, she _had_ to stay. She _wanted_ to.

She loved him and he loved her.

That should've been enough, but it couldn't, no matter how much both of them wanted it to be. There was more the two of them had to face, to overcome; love alone wasn't enough.

But no matter how uncomfortable she felt in that moment, Shosanna knew that she had to let Fredrick have this; to have her patience, and hopefully, her understanding.

And so she stood; watching, waiting, as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring straight ahead, worrying his hands.

Finally, after a prolonged silence, Fredrick spoke. His voice was small,

"_King of Peace_."

Her eyes on him, Shosanna said nothing.

He lowered his eyes to his hands.

"My name," he elucidated, "means King of Peace. Fredrick: King of Peace."

He then turned his head to face her. He seemed so defeated, giving a sad laugh and a shrug,

"It's all so laughable, isn't it?"

Breathing in shakily, Fredrick directed his eyes to the wall in front of him.

"I just don't know, Shosanna," he exhaled roughly, "I just don't know anymore. Maybe I never did."

He then raised his hand, clamping it over his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut. He was breaking.

His body shuddered.

Struggling to keep composed, Fredrick straightened, his features hardening. Grasping at his hands, his brow furrowed as he recalled a not too distant memory; his voice taking on an edge,

"It was shortly after I arrived in Paris, and I had received a hero's welcome. I was personally seen to by Goebbels himself. As one of the many privileges he bestowed upon me, I was immediately accommodated with a suite in a prestigious hotel that had been occupied by our forces. It was all so lavish, so extravagant. "

Fredrick snorted at the thought of it.

"I was not used to such luxury, to such prestige. Here I am, in the midst of it all, in an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar country surrounded by unfamiliar people. I had already done my part for my country and his film. All I wanted, more than anything, was to go home…"

His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he then opened them as he brought himself to speak, his voice growing harder.

"…I had felt that before; I always did, but somehow, then and there, it seemed _worse_. I found myself overcome with this anger, this loneliness. I'm standing there, in this room - I have no idea what to do with any of it, with myself - and I look down at this chair in front of me, against the wall."

Giving pause for the briefest of moments, he swallowed before taking in a breath and forcing himself to continue,

"It was this plush, blue chair, with an ornate, stitched design in the fabric of it. It looked like the kind of chair that could just swallow you whole. So, I bent over it, I took hold of it by the armrests - "

Fredrick now held his hands out in front of himself, gesticulating along with the the story.

" - I lifted it up, and then brought it back down, against the wall. It broke apart in my hands, just like that. It was so loud, so sudden."

He withdrew into himself, his voice now quieter. Shosanna could see that he was faintly shaking.

"I couldn't believe it. I just stood there in a daze, looking at what I had done. The bellboy who had helped me get settled, he was the one who came running first. He stood there, in the doorway, flanked by a couple other enlisted men."

Running a hand through his hair, his voice took on a tone of disbelief,

"They were terrified of me, I could see that; they were outright terrified of me. Yet, they were also in _awe_."

Fredrick shook his head in amazement at it all.

He then went silent for a time, with his eyes drawn to his fretting hands. Shosanna watched; waited. For that time being, the two felt as if they were strangers. And for a stifling moment, they were half terrified of each other, of what the other would do. She almost wanted them to leave before they suffocated under the weight of it; it lay on them like an intolerable heat. She was too afraid to suggest anything, to even clear her throat. Yet, as much as it pressed down on them, Shosanna did not want to upset the surface of the moment.

Mercifully, Fredrick was the one to break through it.

"There was a bookstore my second eldest sister, Elsa, worked in," he had softened now, his tone wistful, "it was run by this kindly old woman, Frau Vogt. Elsa never cared to work in _Das Kino Haus_ as she did for that bookstore."

It was a jolting shift in conversation, but Shosanna welcomed it as his mouth now formed into a nearly imperceptible smile, which was clear in his voice.

"When I wasn't causing mischief in the theater, I was busy bothering her. Frau Vogt, a widow, kept to herself mostly, but she - unlike Elsa - didn't mind my presence there. She very quickly deduced that the best way to keep me in line was to keep me occupied with books. I read through every one I could get my hands on; my very favorite being one about Australian Aborigines."

Fredrick now perked up at the recollection. Though still wary, Shosanna relaxed, if only a little.

"I was so enthralled with it. Out of all of the folklore and fairytales, it was _that_ book that I loved best; I even had my mum read parts of it to me at bedtime. What captured my imagination most was learning of the Walkabout, the Aboriginal rite of passage."

There was a change in his inflection. The more he spoke, the more enlivened he became.

"During adolescence, the males go on a journey into the wilderness, for as long as six months. In that time, they would trace the same paths as their ancestors. It's a solitary journey, only man and the outback. As strange as it sounds, I would dream of being able to do the same when I was old enough."

He looked up at Shosanna, his smile now obvious.

"I settled for exploring the land and woods around my house. Until, of course, my mum or Helga would call for me to come inside for dinner."

Fredrick paused, his eyes settling back to his hands. His voice took on a shyness.

"After mum died and father left us, I was even more determined."

There was now a palpable change in mood; a strangeness. It was so instantaneous that neither were able to adjust to it. Nearly dizzy, Shosanna could feel it bearing down on them. Every word from him, his every gesture drove the flag of Fredrick's reality deeper into her; marking her, claiming her. There was no turning away.

His smile was gone, hidden by a mask of stoicism.

"That's how I got through my enlistment, you know, by treating it as my own Walkabout. Sleeping in tents, huddled in trenches, surrounded by other terrified young men; I knew I could see it through as long as I stayed my course."

Exhaling sharply, Fredrick made an effort to steel himself, but the mask was slipping. He sounded almost faraway; unreadable.

"There's this Aboriginal belief, that to look into another's eyes and see terror is to see your death."

Shosanna noticeably tensed.

Fredrick took a quick gulp of breath and swallowed. He looked so weary, so frightened. He attempted to keep his calm, but his nerves were giving way, betraying him.

"Those others, Shosanna, it did not matter to me how they viewed me. They could never truly know me, so of what concern was it to me? But _you_, Shosanna…"

He could not bring himself to look at her, to even see how she was accepting this as he pressed on, speaking carefully, pronouncing every word with purpose.

"…that night, to see your face, to look into your eyes; I knew then. I knew that it was all over for me."

He could hear the movement of her body, the light treading of her feet on the carpet. A cold wave of panic washed over him, thinking that she was making her move to slip out the door. Instead, Shosanna closed the space separating her from the edge of the bed and sat next to him.

Fredrick made no move to touch her or to look at her. Though he very much wanted to, he did not want to do anything that could jeopardize this moment, to confuse the impulse that brought Shosanna to his side. He could feel her so close to him, feel her looking at him.

And then, she moved.

Leaning into his side, Shosanna laid her head on his shoulder.

Fredrick wanted to reach out to her, but he resisted. He knew better; knew that she meant more than one thing by her gesture. He was a German soldier - War Hero - whom she, a Jewish girl, had come to know due to fate. She would have killed him and herself, if not for _something_ more; _something_ she had yet to define. That _something_ was specific and deliberate in her touch.

_It always was._

Here, now, it was present. It was more than the mere laying down of her head against him, that Fredrick knew. There was a life - a flicker - in the force of her body. Shosanna was making certain not to lean too hard into him. She was touching Fredrick, yet holding back in a way that was calculated and calibrated; judging where and how to touch him.

It meant, for Fredrick, that Shosanna's decision to go to him held a measurement and risk. Her gesture was, for him, as intimate and important as the first time they had kissed; as meaningful and significant as when she first made love to him.

Shosanna wholly trusted him, and silently, simply, she had indicated that to him.

Moments passed.

Moment after moment, the two remained as they were, not a word passing between them.

Fredrick wanted to put his arm around her, but couldn't, as it would require Shosanna to lift her head, and he couldn't go without that contact, not even for a second. Reaching out, he laid his hand upon her thigh, just above her knee, carefully, and flatly. He did not want to close or curl his fingers, as he did not want to seem as though he were trying to take possession of her.

Fredrick took measured breaths, trying to block out the eruption of speculation and joy clouding his mind.

Yet again, Fredrick was trembling, and all because of Shosanna.

Lifting her head, she leaned away from him. He pulled his hand away, his body still quivering.

"There's so much I want to tell you, to ask you," he whispered, "but it's all so strange."

Fredrick turned his face to the window, looking out. Moving out and above them was a sliver of black and gray sky. He felt his heart pounding all over; in the back of his throat, the top of his skull, in the pit of his stomach, between his legs. He knew that everything he and Shosanna shared could end there; their relationship, his life, even hers. It could end and there could be nothing more and it wouldn't matter. It _almost_ made sense, it _almost_ seemed reasonable. It would have done such justice to the chaotic emotions he felt that he _almost_ could have said it aloud.

His body slumping, Fredrick now stared straight ahead. Shosanna sat perfectly straight, her hands in her lap. Though he wouldn't face her, she still looked to him; watching, waiting.

"I'm sorry, Shosanna."

Fredrick could see her hands out of the corner of his eye as they slid down and over her knees, her fingers bending and gripping. Her jaw tightened, with the rest of her body following suit. He could not hold back, and despite Shosanna's disquiet, she did not want him to.

Fredrick repeated himself, slowly, his voice straining,

"I am sorry, Shosanna."

Her eyes were now fixed on her wrist. She did not speak.

He cleared his throat. It was an intrusive, awkward sound.

"That night, Shosanna. I am sorry, I - "

Fredrick's voice dropped off as he came to a standstill.

It shouldn't have been like this. He very much wanted her, what they had.

He always did.

But now, he had begun to wonder if it were at all possible within their given circumstance. Yet Fredrick was all too terribly aware that what the two of them had lived through and shared with each other hung over their heads; had nested within them just as their traumas had. There was no going back for either of them, no matter how difficult this was for him; for her.

"I was raised Catholic. I haven't attended Mass in years; no confession, no ceremony. I suppose that's why I want to speak of these things, Shosanna."

_Confession_. The word stood out, bright and blinding in his consciousness; a negotiation, a show of good faith.

_To be absolved._

Fredrick sat up, straightening his posture. His eyes were trained on his hands, which were clasped on his lap.

"My father abandoned us when I was thirteen. I never depended on him like I did with my mum and sisters. Regardless, I mourned his loss, however briefly. I still wonder about that, sometimes."

Fredrick grew quiet. Lips parted, he was fighting to find the words. His apprehension was apparent, as was a surprising imperativeness, which had Shosanna turn her head to face Fredrick and regard him with expectancy. Sensing her gaze, he took in a harshly audible breath.

He now spoke boldly, without restraint.

"I never went to him for anything; emotionally, or physically. Most sons are raised to admire their fathers, to bond with them. I never did. There was an ambivalence about him; he was neither comforting, nor was he harsh. The world was, to him, at any given moment, either grandiose - something to take hold of - or frigidly empty. More and more, he gravitated toward the latter. The older I get and the more I think about it, I realize that's not the man he truly was; not when my mum met him."

Shosanna returned her eyes to focus on her wrist, her mouth set in a thin line as she listened. Fredrick was unfaltering, speaking of things from someplace wounded within him; things he had never shared until now, with her.

"My father loved my mum, I knew that, I could see that; it was foreign to me, to see him look at her the way he did. He'd stare at me at times, stare at my face, to see if I resembled him, and there was this _flicker_ in his eyes. It seemed to me, though, that it was his wish that I not come to know him. My sisters all knew him in some way, even before the damage took its toll on him, but not me. He would tell me things, teach me - language, rudimentary manners; of fairness and pity. Yet he kept me at a distance, closing off his deepest self. That hurt my sisters more than me, as I did not know any different. The day he left, I had no idea of how to comfort Helga as she broke down."

Taking a moment to collect himself, he could see Shosanna watching him from the corner of her eye.

The timbre of his voice was now colored with an emotion, a desperation. Fredrick persevered; there was much he wanted - _had_ - to say. He wanted very much for Shosanna to know, to understand.

"I knew that I never wanted to turn out like my father, the man I knew. I only had an idea of the man that he was, the man I decided I should be. The kind of man who could live honestly and openly. A man of compassion, of integrity. But I realized when I was in that bell tower, that I couldn't be that man. A man like that doesn't do what I had done. I was more like my father, the man I knew…"

His voice stilled.

A few moments passed.

"Fredrick," Shosanna whispered, her voice steady, but turned on its side. There was something in it he couldn't quite trace, and Fredrick almost didn't answer. But he couldn't stop. Like the momentum of the train, he had to move forward, even if they couldn't get past this.

"The Aboriginal death ritual dictates that the body must return to its Mother Country in order to be laid to rest. Those responsible for the deaths of others are met with banishment, even death. Those bodies - _those men_ - were left where they lay. And there I was - a _hero_."

His voice was breaking with frustration.

"The way you looked at me… I knew then, that no matter where I went, be it Paris, Munich, or any other Goddamned place in the world, I could not escape what I had done. It would always be there, in the back of my mind. Heavy. Looming. _Dark_. Even if I could become _that_ man, I could never escape it. I could run for a thousand years and never look back, but I'll never escape it."

They sat in silence, their eyes staring off into the shadows their bodies cast on the wall.

Fredrick listened to Shosanna breathe, noted the minute shiftings of her weight. She looked at him from the corners of her eyes.

He rid himself of the ceaseless, nervous internal chatter as she took in a breath. In the quiet of his mind, Fredrick could hear her calling for him, reaching out to him with an offer of comfort, with tears, with her body; _something_ of herself she could readily give him. But Fredrick heard nothing of the sort. He knew it could not be as simple as that.

His voice was hushed, the sudden sound of it like being pulled into an alcove; an echo in the dark.

"Perhaps you should have killed me, Shosanna."

Fredrick turned his head to look at her now, fixing his every energy onto her profile. He watched her eyes as she blinked, her throat moving as she swallowed, her chest raising with breath.

He kept on.

"We would have died there, together. You'd have known my truth."

She released her breath, answering him bluntly.

"But you wouldn't have known mine."

Fredrick shrugged.

"Perhaps it would have been better that way."

Shosanna shook her head as if to dislodge an image, her eyes still focused ahead of her.

"That couldn't be so, Fredrick."

She was right, he knew. He thought of Italy, of that bell tower. He thought of her running; bloodied and panicked. He thought of that night and their confrontation: he, broken and furious, she, determined and ready to end all the world's misery at the cost of herself; of him.

Fredrick reached out, touching her shoulder. Shosanna allowed herself no reaction. In his confused, emotional state, he nearly withdrew. She turned her head and her body beneath his hand, changing position slightly and now bringing them both directly face to face.

Eyes locking, they were silent again. It was larger, richer, familiar: there was no discomfort, no dead air within them. He could feel her closer now in every sense. His touch grew heavier, and though she had an impulse to turn away, she did not.

Fredrick felt something within him unfold, encompassing and warm. He spoke with an earnestness, a sadness that pierced through her.

"Je t'aime, Shosanna. Why must it be more complicated than that?"

Shosanna softened.

"Because," her voice fracturing, "nothing is ever so simple."

Fredrick looked to his hand on her shoulder, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric of her blouse.

"None of this should have happened," he decided.

Her eyes went to his hand, then back to his face.

"Oui, but it did."

Fredrick brought his gaze back to hers.

"But if it didn't - "

Shosanna cut him off, her voice resolute.

"But it did. To try to think of life otherwise is an exercise in futility."

"You'd still have your family," he offered, "and I'd be with mine. We would be better off."

Fredrick was tearing at the tenderest parts of her, and he knew it.

"Would we?" she challenged him, voice firm.

"We'd be happier," he answered, half convincingly.

She refused to relent.

"We wouldn't know each other."

Fredrick was now struggling. Shosanna continued to press him.

"You only think you would be happier because you wouldn't have known otherwise."

They were silent again.

There was a way she was able to speak to him, a way which made him wonder if her long pauses were of astonishment, or if it were all a contrivance; a device to make everything he said turn in on itself, like an echo. She never let him get away with a thing, not without a kind of introspection first. Never before had anyone made him feel more human, more important, and, at times when necessary, insignificant. He loved her for it.

"How can you be certain?" he blurted out.

She was brusque with her reply.

"_Because_. For the past four years, all I could allow myself to think about was how different my life would be otherwise. At times, I still do. But it's no way to live, Fredrick. It's a slow death."

Shosanna now paused. She was so exhausted from it all. But she understood; she understood how and why Fredrick felt as he did. What were old wounds and dead tissue for her were fresh and alive for him. The strain in her voice, in her body, was evident.

"We are alive. We have each other. Is that not enough?"

For a moment, he was stunned. It _was_.

"I'm sorry, Shosanna."

It was all he could bring himself to stay. Fredrick wanted to apologize and be forgiven for everything. He took in a deep breath that was broken in two by a sob. He turned away from her, his hand slipping from her shoulder and falling into his lap.

The thought of her coming under harm tore his heart in half. The thought of life without her was unfathomable and enough to drive him to tears. She was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed.

"I can't imagine my life without you, Shosanna," his voice now cracking and peeling around the edges, "it's not that I want my life back the way it was, not entirely. It's not that I want to completely forget, either. It's just that - "

Shosanna interrupted him, speaking definitively, knowingly.

"It's always there."

Fredrick did not respond; instead, he allowed for his silence so she could go on. He wanted to hear it from her.

There was a thoughtfulness to her words, a measure of care, even as her voice wavered.

"It haunts you. You can't articulate it. You just know that it's there; that it hurts. Sometimes it's dormant, but it's there, right below the surface. Other times, it's so sharp, so clear."

Fredrick brought himself to face her, his eyes burning into hers.

He was persistent, though his voice was meek.

"What do we do now, Shosanna?"

She gave him a soft smile.

"We live our lives, Fredrick."

And then, she reached out to him, laying her hand over his, and one at a time, she curled her fingers around the heel of his hand until they touched the outer borders of his palm.

He held his breath. He felt the heat of her, and his heart now pounded so wildly that he was sure she could hear it. He thought of his blood, he thought of _her_ blood; to be the stuff that powered through her, the constant circuit through every inch of her. The hunger he now felt was dizzying.

"Je t'aime," he said, the statement taking on a new weight neither had anticipated.

Within his declaration was all that was known, unknown, unspoken, and vague, hoped for and dreaded between them; pulled together and assembled as if by some kind of emotional magnetism. The atmosphere between them was now charged, as though he made some kind of effort to kiss her, some kind of try for a physical intimacy. Neither had a choice but to come more and more forward with the other. It was almost supernatural, in a way, like seeing a spectre; it could fade into the light and dissipate, or it could take on a weight and substance.

Shosanna fixed her eyes on Fredrick. He could see her sinking into her feelings. She knew she held the silence between them, a silence that sung in perfect pitch. She could hold onto it for an eternity and he would not break through it, nor would he question it. She held onto him, and he could feel her pulse, feel it reverberating through the very core of him.

Fredrick said nothing. He lowered his eyes for a moment, and then looked back at her.

"Je t'aime," he repeated faintly.

She leaned forward and into him, and he tugged at her until they fell back on the bed; almost clumsy, disjointed. Shosanna stretched out on top of Fredrick, her hands pulling at his shirt collar, her mouth centimeters above his.

"Hold me," she whispered.

They embraced, and he held her as tight as he could. He felt a sudden terror, enormous and imposing, unlike any he had ever felt before. Like an explosion, it filled him, and just as suddenly, it left him shaken in its aftermath. His past, he could feel, receded from him. Like a burst balloon, it withered, falling away within him. Though it would always remain, it was, for now, dulled; deflated.

With his arms around her, together, they rolled over, laying side by side, facing each other.

Shosanna arched her back, pressing herself against him. Fredrick, bringing his hand up, stroked the side of her face and covered her mouth with his own, hungry and bruising. His kiss was voracious. He consumed her. Feeling the edge of his teeth on her lower lip, she deepened the kiss, accepting his tongue sliding into her mouth. Shosanna found Fredrick's absolute desire, his _need_ for physical and emotional intimacy with her alarming, but not unwanted.

He loved her.

He loved her face, her large eyes, her sensuous mouth. He loved her small breasts, her flat stomach, and narrow hips. He loved her ass, her thighs, and the junction between them. He loved the feel of her, of being with her, of losing himself to her.

He loved her.

He loved her and it was all he knew; all he knew how to do, all he knew how to feel. If he were to be asked at all as to whether he found this entire ordeal to be worth it, he knew he could state that in the end, it was, and all because of her. He took on her past and her pain as his own. He loved her vulnerabilities, which he never loved more than when the two of them yielded to the touch of each other. The complete love and trust she held in her eyes for him in those moments was _staggering_.

He loved her.

He wanted to _feel_ her.

He _had_ to.

Suddenly, Shosanna's body went taut; her back straightened, snapping open a space between them. Fredrick dragged his mouth from hers with a harsh groan. She then rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her face set in concentration. He remained still, looking up at her. This didn't make sense to him, though he was, he knew, encouraged by their lack of thought.

"It's everything," she determined. "Everything's happening at once. Ending the war. Ending my relationship with Marcel. Leaving France. I feel so thick in the past. I've had to fight for everything. Everything's so exhausting."

Shosanna turned her head to Fredrick.

"And you, now. Out of everything, I'm able to handle you the least. Everything happens at once, and at almost the wrong time. Especially between you and me."

His brows knitting together, Fredrick reached a hand out between them, laying it palm flat. He supposed he should have been upset, but instead, he regarded her with curiosity. He almost wanted to smile.

"I know what I want, Shosanna. To be near you; to be with you. I know it's not so simple. I might not act as though I don't know anything more than what I want, but that's not so. I do know more than that."

His eyes went to her chest, watching as she took in a breath.

Shosanna sighed.

"Everything's so different. And all I can wonder is how you're able to even reach me."

She turned her head away for a moment, returning her open gaze to the ceiling.

"It became habit, being Emmanuelle. I could stream back and forth between the two, but you caught on; knowing that someone, not Emmanuelle, was standing before you, thinking what couldn't be shared."

Shosanna now rolled over again, facing him, her fingertips brushing his hand. Fredrick's attention focused there briefly, before raising his eyes to hers.

"For a long time, I wanted to be the war hero. I wanted to be him just for a way to be; a way to have it make sense being there. Someone to occupy me, to make me less the person I was, who was in so much pain, and more like some other person. Someone unknown to me. I was on the outside, looking in, watching this man I never knew."

Fredrick paused. Shosanna was silent, her lips pressed tight. In the span of the evening and now into night, the two had heard more from the other than either could bear. But he couldn't stop; not now.

"Upon meeting you, I started to feel differently about myself. With you, I knew that I did not want to become him. I did not have to be him. That in spite of the pain and all those kinds of things that don't always make perfect sense, it was so much more beautiful that way; that way of feeling, that way of living."

Shosanna lowered her eyes, her fingertips now spreading out, but not quite touching him.

"It's strange, isn't it?"

Giving a nod of his head, Fredrick said nothing. With her eyes on his, her voice took on a seriousness.

"I thought of you."

He was taken aback at her words, at the near severity with which his body reacted. Warmth flooded him, pooling and settling into his lower abdomen. The significance of her words, the heaviness in her voice brought every part of him to attention. He _almost_ could have felt ashamed of his arousal from her confession.

"I thought of you," Shosanna told him once more, "the entire time. I knew we'd both die that night and that my face would be the last you'd see. You'd know my truth…"

Her voice gave way with a small, soft click.

Their eyes meeting, she took his hand in hers and closed the space between them.

_It was, perhaps, just that simple._


	10. None of Our Secrets Are Physical

Fredrick placed a kiss on her forehead. Shosanna closed her eyes and sighed, encouraging him. He kissed her on the bridge of her nose and then the tip of it before finally reaching her mouth; their lips touching. It was gentle. Sweet. Undemanding.

Until he felt her lips parting against his.

Her voice was a quiet breath against his skin, yet it rang so clear, so true.

"_Je t'aime, Fredrick_."

He looked at her as if he hadn't heard, his heart roaring in his chest. Shosanna's pronouncement broke open a deep, unexpected store of emotion within Fredrick. He could feel it spreading within him; the warmth of it. Their eyes moved as they looked one another over; like a human touch, like a caress. All other attentions given to them over the past four years, they realized, were fleeting, limited, hindered. Now and at long last, Shosanna and Fredrick were seen as they were.

She smiled; brightly and genuinely. It reached her eyes, lighting up her features.

His thoughts raged. Fredrick found that he could not speak; it was as if he were existing before the invention of language. He felt a stream of emotions; emotions he couldn't name, emotions which he could not modify or control. Fredrick knew that even if he tried to, it was all indecipherable. He felt almost lost, unsteady.

Shosanna could feel that Fredrick was hard. She pressed her hips against him, brushing her lips over his.

The sound he made reverberated through her body; low and heavy. Shosanna felt him shudder; his muscles tightened.

As she pulled him closer, his demand increased until all he could think about was the two of them, in this moment, together. The feeling was exhilarating, compelling. The depth of what he felt for her would have frightened a lesser man, but not Fredrick; he _thrived_on it.

The two of them very much knew what they felt for each other; very much knew what they wanted, _needed_of one another.

Reaching out, Shosanna unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers moving with a steady precision. Fredrick grinned down at her, his eyes watching her face and its subtle change in expression; her lips parting ever-so-slightly and her eyes widening at the sight of bare skin, recalling that in their haste to redress earlier that evening, he did not put on his undershirt.

The temptation was far too irresistible. Before she could stop her inclination, Shosanna reached out to touch his chest. The heat in his skin felt good against the cool softness of her fingertips.

His heart was racing.

"I wasn't afraid of you, Fredrick," she confessed, now avoiding his eyes. "I was never afraid of you."

He didn't know how to answer her.

"You're all I care about," he said, hearing his voice as if it came from another part of the room, perceiving it with a hazy clarity.

Shosanna looked up at him, nodding her head.

They kissed again; their mouths hot and wet, her tongue touching his. Fredrick's hand went to the buckle of his belt, sliding down to his erection, struggling against the confines of his slacks. Shosanna reached her hand down over his, gently nudging it aside as she cupped him. He moved against her hand awkwardly, impeded by the barriers of his clothes; craving the contact, her body.

She made a sound; passing from her mouth to his, the strength of it nearly knocking him back. Swallowing hard, Fredrick pulled back, loosening his hold on her and looking her in the face, their noses almost touching. She met his gaze from beneath her lashes, the corners of her mouth turning up.

Retracting her hands from him, Shosanna rolled over flat onto her back, leaving him wanting. Her head still turned to face him; she brought her hands to the buttons of her blouse, making quick work of them.

She watched him.

Watched as his eyes darkened.

Watched as his jaw tensed.

Watched as his body shifted and his hand slid back down to his hardness.

His heart was slamming in his chest as Shosanna's blouse, now unbuttoned, folded itself into the shadows along the line of her ribcage, revealing to him her camisole. It was given to her, along with other articles of clothing, from Edwige's charity. Eggshell white, the camisole fastened in the front with small, smooth buttons. The fabric stretched snugly over her breasts, her hardened nipples protruding against the thin material of it.

She watched him expectantly; waiting.

Fredrick was now close by her side and over her, dropped on one elbow. With his free hand, he clumsily worked to unfasten the buttons in order to remove the clothing that obstructed his view. Holding his breath in anticipation, Fredrick ran his fingertips over the soft cloth languorously. Then, from one side to the other, he took each half of the camisole between his thumb and forefinger, lifting them up and away, exposing her breasts.

Looking up at Shosanna, their eyes locked.

With a groan, Fredrick rose from his position beside her, bringing himself to his knees. Eyes never leaving the other, he removed his shirt, discarding it off the side of the bed. As he did so, Shosanna sat up, sliding off her blouse and camisole. The two had grown frantic, kicking off their shoes and helping each other with the rest of the buckles, snaps and zippers that inhibited them, throwing the last remaining garments to the floor.

The sight of her body, the feel of her, was unfailingly powerful for Fredrick. He wasn't entirely certain of how or why that was, only that he had been aware of it from the moment he had first spotted Shosanna in the lobby of _Le Gamaar_. Their eyes meeting, it was in that moment Fredrick knew - he fully _believed_- that he was born to see it: her face, throat, breasts, hips, thighs, and what lay between them; to feel a heat and softness that no word could ever adequately express.

Shosanna lay back down on the bed, and without hesitancy, Fredrick joined her. Flat on his back, his eyes looked to the ceiling. She rolled onto her side, her head propped up by her right arm, which was bent at the elbow. Brows knitted together, she watched him, waiting for him to speak, to move. The two fell into a silence, but it lasted only moments. Fredrick spoke with an eager certainty.

"Nothing's really changed."

He turned his head to face her.

"We're still the same as we always were. We still feel the same."

His mouth then set in a thin line as he considered what he had said; his eyes running over the length of her before settling back on hers. A faint smile played upon his lips,

"Only now, we are able to be open."

Without a word, Shosanna moved closer to Fredrick. Leaning over him, she held his face in her hands and held his mouth with hers in a long, open kiss. It felt, in a way, like the smoke had cleared after the fire, revealing wreckage and debris of a once insurmountable stronghold to be cleared away; though it would take care and time, it was not impossible.

Within her kiss, Fredrick could feel - and see - so clearly her feelings, their origins; back, back so far and so deeply into her. What he felt with Shosanna was the beginning of something with no known limits; softer and far vaster. Those unknown parts of the human body and spirit. The possibilities of their lives matched the full range of their desire.

Fredrick's hands lay palm flat on his stomach, the muscle beneath tensing from the touch. His erection was strained and aching. Fredrick's hand slid down to his hardness, touching it lightly, gracelessly. He was ready to let go. More than ready. He wanted to feel Shosanna; to be be touched, to be within her. She lay back down, the two rolling onto their sides to face each other.

Reaching a hand out, he caressed her cheek.

"Je t'aime, Shosanna."

She pressed herself closer to him, and Fredrick, looking to her eyes, bowed his head to hers and kissed her. Mouth warm, he kissed her long and deep; there was no haste, despite their heightened states of arousal. Fredrick then slid his hand down to her side, his fingers spreading out gently across her ribs to barely - _just barely_- brush against the underside of her breast. Shosanna brought her hand up and across the nape of his neck and into his hair, holding his head and his mouth to hers. She felt surrounded by him, and it was so easy for her to sink into his strength. She didn't want this to end.

And for long, glorious moments, the two stayed like this.

The surge in Fredrick's pulse told him that he needed _this_, more than he had ever realized. He needed the heated rush of blood through his veins that reminded him that he was among the living; that there was something for him in this world, however dark a place it could be. Fredrick needed this, he needed her. Shosanna was something living; something soft, vital, and whole. The two of them needed this, needed each other.

Fredrick moved his hand from her side down to her hip, giving a gentle squeeze, and then sliding up and over. Cupping her ass, he pulled Shosanna up against his chest. His arousal was held by her hips and their quavering bodies were so smooth with sweat now that everything seemed to be in preparation for consummation. She sucked in a hard breath.

Allowing herself to fall against Fredrick, she moved against his hardness; just as with so many times before, he joined in the rhythm. Grasping her tightly, he stroked repeatedly, his strong breath and heavy heartbeat thudding loudly. His hand on her ass returned to her hip, and then down to her thigh, massaging the soft flesh as he went along. Shosanna arched her back, parting her thighs in invitation as she hitched her leg up and around him. Her own heart rate mounted as Fredrick moved in and under, cupping her with his hand; he was shaken upon feeling the wetness between her thighs.

He covered her mouth with his own, sliding his tongue over hers. Shosanna had learned long ago to take these moments and relish them, inhaling his breath and soaking in the comfort of his body against hers. She rubbed against him in a desperate bid to keep going, but Fredrick held back. Smoothing his palm over her, he pressed lightly, giving her just enough friction to stay painfully aroused. Breaking the kiss, Fredrick released her, rolling her onto her back as he took his place beside her, his body half above hers.

Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her hard, crushing his mouth against hers; his tongue delving into her mouth. Shosanna rocked against Fredrick, a little whimper of a sound that was part sob escaped her, tearing through him. He pressed his lips to her jaw, then her cheek, unable to resist the smoothness of her skin. He then brushed his nose along her jawline, toward her ear, where he slowly exhaled. His voice was low and warm against her throat,

"_Ich liebe dich auch, Liebling_."

Shosanna sighed and closed her eyes.

Fredrick ran his lips over her jawline and further down, raining kisses along the white column of her neck. Trailing down, he nipped at her collar bones, and spreading kisses over the plane of her chest, he turned his attention to her breasts. His hands fondled them, cupping their fullness. Shosanna arched into his touch, offering herself to him. He ran the pads of his thumbs over her nipples, making her breath catch in her throat.

A new tension had gripped her body, and she found herself arching up into him. Smiling against her, he ran his mouth along the elegant curve of her neck, kissing the side of her neck, then her shoulder, as he moved directly toward a breast. His lips closing over a nipple, there were no tentative touches as firmly and eagerly, he sucked.

He _loved_her breasts; always lavishing them with an attention which served to enhance her arousal. When he had begun his militaristic training at the age of sixteen, spending long hours away from home amongst other young boys his age, Fredrick had glimpsed the pages of the erotica a few of them had managed to procure. He found himself nearly intimidated by the sight of it; fully exposed women with lush, hourglass figures, their painted faces in expressions of desire. None of it, however, could compare to the woman beneath him, the woman whose body - lithe and soft - he came to know so well.

Fredrick had become almost aggressive with his affections, his teeth grazing the tip of her nipple as he let go, his hands holding her body hard enough to bruise. He then kissed his way over the soft curve of her breast and the space between, making his way over the sweep of her other breast.

A soft sound came from her throat.

He didn't hold back, running his tongue over her nipple, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. Making the sound again, she gasped. A needy murmur, it was enough to bring about his own release.

Shosanna tried to speak to him, to tell him all that she thought and felt in that moment, but his hand slid between her thighs and her voice deserted her, causing her to give a ragged cry instead. Fredrick could feel how very wet she was. More than that, he could feel how much she wanted him, how much she loved him.

Her hips moved restlessly against Fredrick, as his hand was never still; rubbing and caressing her sensitive, slick flesh as he continued to suck on her breasts. He teased her with his fingers, sliding first one, then another inside her, stretching her gently and drawing forth more wet heat. Fredrick wanted to touch her everywhere, but he wouldn't dare remove his hand from her, nor did he want to leave the soft slope of her breasts.

She shivered, and breathlessly, she dug her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and strained against his hand, twisting helplessly. As he continued to move his hand over her, Shosanna grew hotter; the warm wetness between her legs was becoming increasingly unbearable from the sweet torment of Fredrick's ministrations.

She gave a quiet sob.

"_Fredrick_."

He could feel the incredible heat of her. He was nearly out of control now, for Shosanna was so unashamedly responsive to his touch. It was more than either could bear.

Lifting his head and pulling himself up, Fredrick dropped light, reassuring kisses all over her face and throat as he withdrew his hand from between her thighs. Shosanna flinched, lifting her hips as he did so, silently pleading with him. Settling himself between her thighs, Fredrick pushed her legs further apart. He then raised his body from hers, leaving her momentarily chilled. Straightening, Fredrick knelt before Shosanna; his arousal full, hard, and ready.

Her heart fluttered within her chest as her body now quaked, her arms at her sides, her hands fisting into the sheets. Lips parted and eyes lidded with desire, she looked up at him.

Their eyes met.

She stared at him, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze, which was desirous as it swept over her. Bathed in the warm glow of the ambient lighting, she was so perfectly formed and so very, very beautiful. His forelocks falling into his face and that flicker ever-present in his dark eyes, Fredrick gave Shosanna a slow, sensual smile. Never before, it seemed, had he ever been so certain of anything in his life than what he felt for her, and, for in that moment, what he wanted to share with her. He would never tire of this.

Shosanna could see how his features had softened, heated. Leaning over her, he reached for a breast. Cupping, squeezing the soft flesh, his thumb brushed over the hard tip of her nipple. Releasing her breast, Fredrick slid his hand along the bottom curve of the flesh, gliding his hand over her ribs and down along her hip; he then reversed the course of his hand over and over, before finally bringing it to settle back on her hip. His fingertips applied the slightest of pressure, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Breathless, she trembled.

Bending over her, Fredrick pressed his lips to the flesh just below her breast. He then murmured against her, the warmth of his breath causing her to have a sharp intake of breath as her body shivered and her skin prickled in avid response.

"_Liebling_."

All Shosanna could see of him were his broad shoulders and back as he bent over her, his muscles flexed tight. She stirred.

Another soft kiss, lower now on her stomach as his hand ran down along her slick, inner thigh. She whispered something Fredrick couldn't make out; he was only able to catch the stammer in her voice as his mouth skimmed over her hip, his forelocks falling forward and brushing over her skin along the way.

Shosanna was open to him, for him; she could see his eyes were open, taking in the full sight of her as he dipped farther down, his shoulders holding her legs open. She stared down at the top of his head, watching and feeling as he pressed his lips down onto her warm folds of flesh. His mouth was so heated and so soft; achingly so, as were his hands, now holding her thighs.

She could hardly breathe.

There was a relief in his contact, followed closely behind with arousal. Immediately, she was lost in it all, within the surges of pleasure that sank into her core with each stroke of his tongue. She bit gently at the inside of her lower lip, raising her hands to his shoulders and feeling the warm, tight skin between thumbs and forefingers as she closed her eyes again. She fully abandoned herself to the slowly manifesting promise of release under the focused attentions of Fredrick's mouth.

Fredrick adored being so close to Shosanna, to taste her honeyed wetness. His hands leaving her thighs, he brought them up to her chest. Back arching, she gave of herself to him, her hard nipples pressing into his palms. Shosanna placed her hand on top of his head, as if to hold his mouth to her. With every lick of his tongue, she wanted his mouth even more.

But Fredrick kept with her, increasing the pace and pressure as she wanted, as he desired to give to her. Shosanna gasped his name, the hand on his head now lightly touching his shoulder. Fredrick took hold of her roaming hand, and guiding to her newly exposed breast, he held it there, feeling as she cupped herself. Her head turned on the mattress, eyes away from him as she whispered something that yet again, he could not make out. It was of no matter as Fredrick persisted, pressing her with the insides of his lips and the back part of his tongue, where it was softer.

Shosanna trembled with each pull of his mouth, each stroke of his tongue. Her thighs went stiff now, shaking, as she lifted herself to him. Her unintelligible whispers formed into a sharp cry as her breaths came faster now.

"_Fredrick_," she said, in a feverish, sliding way.

He could feel her even closer, his mouth now touching against the sensitive parts of her even harder. She clapped her legs closed; her thighs covering his ears. Her moan sounded so distant, growing higher in pitch. Though he didn't lift his mouth from her, he held it still. The tenacity of her movements doubled as he stopped, her hands at her sides clawing at the sheets.

Catching his breath, Fredrick opened his mouth wider, his hands now placed on her hips to hold them still. Shosanna breathed in deeply, her entire body quivering with anticipation.

He moved between her legs, once more feeling and tasting the wet heat of her as his tongue pushed into her softness. Shosanna gasped and arched up, right into his mouth. Fredrick could hear the sound of her breathing; rapid, fraying at the edge. Her arms were now over her head, her hands balled into fists, her body moving against his mouth, back and forth.

She was in a frenzy, so lost in elation she could barely stand it. Her voice higher, her body tightening, Shosanna rocked her hips against his mouth, urging him into her erratic rhythm. Fredrick held on, steadily stroking over her, harder and faster as her body went tighter and tighter. The rushing tide of sensation which overtook her was suprising.

With a cry, her muscles pulled taut as she shook with orgasm, her body clenching and releasing in great spasms; originating, building, and flowing. Within her pleasure, Fredrick drank her climax.

Her body shaking, Fredrick planted kisses along her inner thighs and up over her hips, bringing his head to rest on her lower abdomen as she quieted. There, he looked up at her. Her face was flushed, her hair a tousled mess. Eyes half-lidded and glimmering, Shosanna met his dark gaze.

She smiled.

Reaching out a hand to his sweat-dampened brow, she brushed his forelocks out of his face. Eyes closing from her touch, Fredrick groaned, his body shifting between her legs. He needed his own release, and she wanted to give it to him. Shosanna pulled at Fredrick as he crawled up her body; she moved with him, easing him up alongside her and onto his back. She positioned herself beside him, laying a hand on his stomach. Leaning over him, she kissed his chest.

Fredrick took in a breath.

Shosanna touched his arousal, taking him into her hand with a delicacy, wrapping her fingers around his erection.

Fredrick let out a low, rough sound.

She placed wet kisses on the flat of his stomach, her fingertips gliding across the broad tip of his shaft, encountering a bead of moisture.

"_Shosanna_," he rasped, thrusting into her hand.

She stroked him tentatively, moving her mouth lower to taste more of him. Gritting his teeth, Fredrick fought for control over himself. Reaching his shaft, Shosanna ran her tongue over him, taking him into her mouth as far as she could. His hips arched almost violently at the feel of her warm mouth and wet tongue on him.

It was too much for him to take. Fredrick weakly endeavored to speak.

"Shosanna, nein."

If she had heard him, she paid no heed, as she carried on. Alternately tonguing and skimming her teeth over the length of him, she moved up and down him; slowly, stroking him at the same pace he had stroked her. It was beautifully torturous.

Fredrick was trying not to come. He knew he couldn't; not yet.

"_Nein_," his protest, though breathy, was now adamant. He reached for her, fingers stranding through her hair to get her attention.

Shosanna stilled her actions. Releasing him, she looked up at Fredrick in slight confusion, her lips parted and wet. Sucking in a breath, he spoke again; calmer, in French,

"_I want to be with you_."

It was both a plea and a demand. Shosanna knew that she could not refuse. Nor did she want to.

Saying nothing, she moved to his side, lying down. Rolling over to face her, Fredrick lightly touched her cheek, his voice soft,

"I want to feel you, Shosanna. I want to feel us."

She remained silent, but in act of understanding, she pressed herself to him. Wordlessly demonstrating his need, Fredrick thrust against her, leaving a trail of moistness along her abdomen.

The two were more than ready.

Fredrick rolled Shosanna onto her back, his mouth and body upon her; hungry and hard. She gasped at the initial contact of it, of the feel of him against her; the heat, pressing the warmth of his blood in on her. It was in the way that his skin warmed her, how he controlled his strength as he held her close to him. Arching up beneath him, Shosanna kissed his throat where she could see the beating of his pulse, trailing her mouth down to the crook of his neck; inhaling the scent of him.

Supporting the weight of himself on his elbows, Fredrick brought his hands to the sides of her face, threading his fingers into her hair. The kiss he lowered onto her mouth was fiercely possessive, leaving her breathless. Feeling him push against her, she drew her legs around Fredrick in response, pulling him closer. Her hips now cradled his arousal, allowing her to feel the length and hardness of him. Shosanna's lips curved into a smile against his mouth.

As he broke the kiss, Shosanna arched into Fredrick, in an attempt to follow with him. He straightened his arms, lifting his upper body away from her, above her. Staring into her eyes, he smiled.

Bringing her hands back up to either side of his face, Shosanna could feel the rigidity of his body as he braced himself, the tip of his arousal pressed to her center. She was slick, ready, and open for him.

A serious expression crossed his face. Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. Eyes on hers, Fredrick flexed his spine. In one, swift, hard thrust, he entered her with a roughness, a neediness; filling her. Both crying out, they then stilled; the relief of joining flooding their senses. All that they felt now held a newness; it was far too impassioned, far too raw.

Shosanna was so wet and Fredrick thrust so easily into her that he came immediately. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gave a low groan as it coursed through him. She could feel - and see - his jaw set against the building pressure within him. Fredrick thrust forward, hips contracting as he came. The release of it was so intense that it bordered on pain. Body shuddering, he hung his head. If not for his mighty reaction, it hardly would have registered with her, as Fredrick remained just as hard.

Shosanna traced her fingers over his features as she whispered soothingly to him in French. Turning his face in her hands, Fredrick pressed a kiss into her palm. No longer able to hold up his own weight, he then lowered himself onto her.

Every inch of him was fitted against her, his body heat sinking into her. With a low, indistinguishable murmur, Fredrick pressed up more fully against Shosanna, freeing his hands to cup her face, his thumbs sweeping over her jaw on either side as he hovered his mouth over hers.

He didn't kiss her, but his lips caressed hers as he whispered,

"_Meine Liebe_."

All that Fredrick felt for her resonated throughout her body; from his breath on her skin, the racing of his heart, to the hard, full pulse of him within her. Everything the two had been through that night simply faded away in the face of this; in the face of what they had felt for each other, of what they could still yet feel.

Ghosting his lips over her features, Fredrick's voice was a husky whisper of German endearments. His breath, his skin, was a warm, gentle comfort. As he touched his mouth to hers, Shosanna parted her lips for him, and he kissed her; lovingly, long, and lingering.

Fredrick's hands slid down her body and then up again; familiar with her every curve and nuance. Never before had she felt so aware of anyone, of his hands on her, of his heat, of his strength. His hands slid back up to her face, fingers pushing up past her temples and into her hair. Lifting his mouth away from hers, he looked upon her.

He looked upon her with complete adoration; returning his gaze, she shivered, eliciting a heavy, deep sound from him. Bringing his mouth to hers, he kissed her again; lightly, softly, sweetly. There was a stunning tenderness now present, a vulnerability; it was as if their bodies, their emotions, were entirely new to one another. Mouths softly touching, Fredrick breathed,

"_Ich brauche dich, Shosanna_."

Gasping, she stared up at him.

He wanted - _needed_- her with such an intensity that he was shaking.

"Fredrick," her voice soft, "move with me."

Shosanna then raised a hand up, touching his face.

"I want to feel you," she added, running her hand over his cheek, "I want to feel _us_."

From her words alone he was ready for another release, but he was now overruled by new desires; Shosanna knew - _felt_- that what Fredrick was capable of emotionally and physically was far stronger, beautiful, and frightening.

He stared into her eyes, seeing within them all sorts of things; things that assuaged him, things that made him hyper-aware of every inch of her, of himself. Things that he wanted, with her.

Fredrick took a deep breath and tried not to move; the effort nearly killed him. He adored how he filled her, how so perfectly their bodies fit. His heart was hammering in his chest; his breath came short and choppy.

Shosanna's body was throbbing, every muscle was tense.

Her hands gripped his back, now covered with a sheen of sweat, and she pressed down on him. Not able to refuse her, Fredrick moved within Shosanna, groaning from the pleasure he gained. She raised her hips up against him, pulling him higher inside her. He stopped for a moment once more to rest, and looking at him questioningly, she moved against him breathlessly, demandingly, urgently.

He moved within her and all capacity for thought shrank to the pinnacle of sensations running through them. Then he rocked deeper and Shosanna could scarcely breathe. She clutched at Fredrick, needing him to keep going; to not stop. His expression was one of severe concentration, his brow damp, his jaw set. In all their time together, Fredrick knew her, knew her body, knew what she needed.

Slanting his mouth over hers, Fredrick kissed her, his tongue filling her mouth as he thrust into her. Together, the two moved slowly, deliberately. Fredrick gasped, his whole body taut with the effort he was exerting to retain his self-control. He felt unwieldy in a way, realizing the limitations of their bodies. Their desires were infinite, but their bodies, tendons and joints, were ruled by gravity. Their bodies, now slick with sweat, were pressed tightly together, the sounds of their breaths intermingling with those of wet, skin-to-skin contact.

There was no control. Fredrick held onto Shosanna and Shosanna held onto him, arms and legs wrapped around him in a passionate embrace. Arching her back, she pressed her hips increasingly forward with each of his thrusts, which were growing more and more volatile.

Shosanna gasped and Fredrick bent his head to brush his lips across the soft skin of her exposed neck. In response, her arms wound around his back, holding him to her and pulling them tighter together. Their movement was frantic, chaotic.

Thrusting into her deeper and harder, Fredrick filled her senses; had her writhing, arching beneath him. Closer and closer, he pulled her to the uncontrollable edge, only to hold her there; not yet letting go.

Still on his forearms, his hands in her hair, his eyes locked on hers, Fredrick allowed for Shosanna to see everything he felt as he moved within her. He held her gaze through every thrust, every push of his hips, studying her face as if to ensure that she felt all that he wanted - had - to give of himself to her.

Bowing his head to hers, he then kissed her; warm and ardently. Together, the two slowed the pace, moving with a determined rhythm. From moment to moment, all thought ceased as feeling took over. The familiar, desperate need returned, though it was now driven by passion.

His breathing growing labored, Fredrick could feel Shosanna tense; her climax was imminent. He, too, could feel his own taking shape within him. With a thread of timidity in his voice, Fredrick whispered her name,

"_Shosanna_."

The sound alone made her body go tense as she heated, slickened. Fredrick wanted, _needed_, her so much closer.

He slid his hands down to the backs of her thighs, spreading them wider, allowing for a deeper penetration, which wrenched a moan from him and a cry of shock from her. He then eased a hand under her hips, rocking her up against him.

Fredrick continued to lift and pull her up from underneath him, and Shosanna complied. The heel of her hand hit his chest; it seemed for a moment as if she were refusing at first, to push him off of her, but it passed. She was rising toward Fredrick, holding on with her beautiful, competent hands.

The two were now sitting up. Lifting herself up with her hands on his shoulders, Shosanna rolled her hips, the two still joined, having never parted. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him to her, and he slipped a hand beneath her ass, so no matter what, their bodies would remain touching. With his other hand, Fredrick threaded fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her head and holding her close. Shosanna nestled into him, her arms draped around his neck.

Fredrick looked into her eyes. With his own eyes glistening, his brow gleaming with sweat, and his hair in disarray, Fredrick was aware he must've looked half-mad, as did she; wide-eyed, her skin was flushed, her hair a golden mess of waves. Shosanna was panting and shivering as her body continued to move with his.

Rocking her hips against his, she silently urged him to follow her lead. Wanting all he could have of her and wanting to give the same in return, Fredrick complied, relinquishing all control to her. Together, once more, they found their rhythm, languid and purposeful. Touching and feeling. Giving and taking.

Framing his face in her hands, Shosanna brought her mouth to his and kissed him hard, her tongue and teeth clashing with his. Disoriented, Fredrick held onto her, as if she were to slip away if he were to let go. Shosanna knew that this - the emotional and the physical - was all still new for Fredrick. There was no need for urgency; to rush. Not after all had they had shared and discovered of each other.

Fredrick watched her face; her lips parted, her eyes closed, only to suddenly open again, looking up at him with a kind of helplessness mixed with hunger and surprise. Shosanna moved back and forth two times, then a third; grinding and precise. He pressed against her harder. She arched her back, took in a deep breath. Shosanna rested her forehead against his, her voice a breathy sound in her throat,

"_Mon amour_."

They moved together intently, steadily. Simple and direct, there was a comfort to it, held within each movement, which increased by the steadiness.

It was agonizing. It was maddening.

She was whispering something he couldn't quite understand. He wanted to still his body, to hear it, but to do so would upset the rhythm. Fredrick now moved with a frisson of impatience. Her willingness, her need, was almost terrifying.

The whisper was louder now; a half-finished thought.

"_I want to_," she said.

Shosanna was so wet and so heated and Fredrick was so achingly hard that it could've been painful if not for the slickness of her holding and stroking the length of him. It was so gorgeously, potently ecstatic; it was as if his nerve endings had unwound. He groaned, low and deep in encouragement.

Her forehead still touching his, Shosanna brought her hands up to either side of his face. She held tighter to Fredrick; her soft breasts and hard nipples against his chest, her pubic hair brushing against him. With her hips locked around his as she met his unfaltering thrusts, he now slid his hand up from beneath her and pressed her at the small of her back; inciting her on with him.

With her eyes shut, she rocked back and forth; pressing herself against him with such huge power that Fredrick thought he might cry out. The strength she held within her small frame and the force with which she ground against him was so astonishing that it was all he felt. There was a sternness to it, an undercurrent of fury. Shosanna was relentlessly giving him everything she could of herself and he was in a state of delirium, oblivious to all but her.

He was covered in sweat; his muscles ached as if knotted by fever. Shosanna moved, back and forth, back and forth. It was _devastating_. She fixed her eyes on his for a moment and then closed them again. Fredrick whispered her name, and when Shosanna didn't respond, he panicked. Tilting his head in her hands, he kissed her mouth.

He breathed her breath and she lingered, breathing the air out of his lungs, both filled with their combined redolence; the red wine, German coffee, and cigarettes, the long night, and their overpowering nervous systems. Everything he felt within that moment, with her, enveloped him; sheltering him. Fredrick could feel his own climax moving within him, grand and forthcoming. But more than that, he could feel her.

Shosanna was shaking all over; tremors running like currents through her, from the tips of her toes to her thighs and the junction between them, straight up through her stomach and into her chest. There was something else within her; something that knew the time and tempo of every breath, of every movement. Warm and bright, it coiled tightly within her and unfurled. Head tipping back over his arm, clinging to him, body trembling, she cried out, high and keening. She tightened and clenched around him, her back arching and her hips bucking wildly against him as she broke apart in his arms; the motion, the friction, was enough to send him over the edge.

As soon as her body shuddered in response to her climax, Fredrick found himself moved; astoundingly so. Within her cries, he found his release. Like a white-hot knot of need, it unraveled, racing through him. Fredrick grabbed hold of her back - feeling the sweat rolling off it - _almost_afraid she would leave him, his body arching towards her.

But then, feeling the warmth of his oncoming climax, Shosanna moved up a little and tightened herself for a slow, deliberate slide down the length of him. As she did so, she delivered the coup de grâce: touching the side of his face, Shosanna kissed him lightly and warmly.

Everything fell away.

Grunting, Fredrick surrendered himself to her, coming hard and fast, spilling his release within her; the pleasure of it seeping through him, surging and sending a charge to every nerve in his body. He attempted to fix his entire concentration on it, but his focus, however, remained on hers, more so than his own. It was a tireless passion for him to witness - and experience - her pleasure.

The two moved like mad, holding onto each other, their voices joining, forming in one wild, nearly primal cry.

Shosanna's body went rigid in his arms, and eyes closed, mouth open, she held her breath. She held her frozen pose, and then collapsed against Fredrick, her face buried in the arc of his neck; her breaths reappeared, heavy and slow.

Bodies shaking, they sought the safety and solidity of each other, clutching one another with such passion that they left small marks on each other's skin. Fredrick felt as though his muscles were breaking down and his lungs shriveled as he took in deep breaths. Shosanna worked to soothe him, kissing his neck and jawline, her own breath heavy against his skin as she whispered endearments.

Reveling in each other, she felt the strong pulse of him within her as he felt hers, sheathing him.

After several moments, the two parted. Gathering her up in his arms, Fredrick lay Shosanna down on the bed, joining her by her side. Bodies relaxing, a chill swept over them; reaching for the sheets and blankets, he covered them both. Fredrick held onto Shosanna, his hands roaming over her as he whispered to her in German. It was poetic, in a way, he observed. Perhaps it was from the exhaustion overtaking them, but his thoughts came out half-formed, broken.

"Sehr viel näher," he sighed, "Ich brauche dich so sehr viel näher."

In that moment, Shosanna felt so fragile in his arms; her small, soft body against his, her fluttering heartbeat.

There was death and war between them, tens of thousands of hours of terror and doubt, secrets and lies, things that went said and unsaid. Separately and together, they saw it through, the German War Hero and the Jewish Girl. Both were made different in many ways, yet remained the same in others. Neither was lesser for it.

All that they felt, it seemed, was struck by the light of consciousness. Though fragmented, it was brighter, more brilliant; blinding and warm, it cast no shadows.

Everything they shared, everything that they felt, was far too lovely, far too precious.

Looking up at Fredrick, Shosanna could see within his eyes an incredible heat; that ever present flicker.

Raising her hand to the side of his face, she touched the line of his jaw, watching as Fredrick kept his eyes on hers. A smile played upon her lips.

Sweeping her thumb over his lower lip, Shosanna tipped her head back, touching her mouth to his; kissing him.

The contact was soft, honest.

Fredrick closed his eyes.

He could feel himself slipping away. He was always lost to Shosanna, from the moment he spotted her in _Le Gamaar_. But now, he knew that there was no one else but her. Nothing else without her. He knew that she was with him, that she wanted him, _loved_ him. Even without her admission, Fredrick would've held no doubt as to the heart of her emotions. Moments earlier, his body overwhelmed as he poured himself into her, Fredrick had his affirmation. Shosanna entirely, completely gave of herself to him, for him; freely, openly. His heart now thundered so hard in his chest that he was almost certain it was going to burst.

Now he knew.

As her hands smoothed over the hard muscle of his chest and she sighed so gently, so softly into his mouth, Fredrick knew that Shosanna knew, too; that she felt the same.

For all that was past them, for all that was to come, the two would have one another.


	11. The War Is Over and We Are Beginning

The remainder of that night was lost to them.

The two rested, bodies nestled into one another; but it never lasted long, as they were far too absorbed with each other.

Shosanna and Fredrick spoke more, of simple things. Things, that, perhaps in the grander scheme of the world, did not matter much, but it mattered to them. It brought them comfort and consolation in the face of all that awaited the two.

Her face nuzzling his neck, Shosanna spoke until her voice trailed off to nothing and sleep claimed her.

Fredrick's voice came broken and rough as he murmured her name. It was selfish of him, he knew, but his want - _his need_ - for her overcame all else. The sound of his voice was enough to pull Shosanna back into consciousness.

She rolled Fredrick onto his back, and stretching her body out over his, the two made love once more for a very long while. They moved together in a smooth, unhurried rhythm until, tremors overtaking them both, they found their release with one another.

Arms wrapped tight around her, Fredrick did not yet want to let go of Shosanna; did not yet want to lose the press of her flesh against his. It was all too perfect, too beautiful when they made love.

Fredrick looked up into her green eyes. They appeared darker now, half-lidded with sleep and infatuation. And there, near her left eye, her scar.

_Her scar._

It was a fleck upon her otherwise perfect skin. It betrayed her in a way, revealing that part of herself, her story, which she fought so hard to conceal. Fredrick had noticed it when the two had first met, but he never could have imagined its violent origins.

His mind wandered; back to the night the war ended.

Surely, in the projection booth, Shosanna had felt as he did; trapped in that bell tower. But whereas Fredrick had a home with a family to return to, Shosanna did not. She had nothing left, not even her name, which had been ripped away from her. She had been so completely willing to destroy herself, to end the war and to reclaim all that was rightfully hers.

And he, Fredrick Zoller, a foolish young boy, was unaware of it all. All he knew was that he loved Emmanuelle Mimieux.

Emmanuelle Mimieux, who was beautiful and special, though he couldn't place why.

Emmanuelle Mimieux, who was Shosanna Dreyfus.

If only he, Fredrick Zoller, German War Hero, had known.

Fredrick Zoller, who, in his mad desperation for Emmanuelle Mimieux to understand him, hurt her. She could have killed him. But she, Shosanna Dreyfus, did not.

Throughout it all, she had more than ample opportunity to leave him, to turn him away.

Yet she did not.

Throughout it all, Shosanna was with him. She loved him.

Here, now, in their room, in this bed, Shosanna held tight to Fredrick just as he held her. With her lips against his neck, her breath was a soft whisper against his pulse,

"_Rest, Fredrick, rest_."

The sky passing by their window now a light gray, Fredrick closed his eyes.

* * *

Red.

She was swathed in it.

It was the color of the fever in her blood; oppressive and hot, which consumed her.

It was the color of her blood; warm and rich, that poured from her abdomen.

It was the color of the flames; bright and burning, which rose to meet her.

It was the color that defined her madness.

_Red_.

Sprawled on the floor, her body ached. Eyes squeezed shut, she turned her head in his direction, to face him. She had to confront the sight of him.

She opened her eyes.

There, he lay where he had fallen; unmoving.

She could have wept, if she had the fortitude to do so. But even in her weakened state, she called out to him, her voice rising above the destruction that surrounded them.

"_Fredrick_."

He did not stir.

Nearly far too much for her to bear, she still persisted. Throat dry, she roughly swallowed and brought herself to try again,

"_Fredrick_!"

He gave no response.

Desperately, Shosanna gathered the entire strength of her broken body, bringing herself to roll over onto her stomach. It was a quick, forceful motion; the sickening, wet slap of her bloodied torso against the hard wood floor rang out, both causing her to grimace and struggle for breath.

Reaching Fredrick would be as perilous as scaling the heights of Piz Palü, it seemed, but it had to be done. Time was not on their side.

Gritting her teeth and tightening her body, she cajoled and pleaded with her muscles and tendons into cooperation. Every fiber throbbed, every cell screamed as she clawed and scratched her red nails into the floorboards, pulling and dragging herself to him, leaving a trail of red behind in her wake.

Though she was wracked with excruciating pain and a sob caught in her throat, she could not stop; she willed herself toward Fredrick, her absolute desire and need to be near him providing her momentum.

Joining his side, she managed to raise a hand to his cheek, gently touching his face.

He was unresponsive. Fredrick was dead.

The fire roared around them, the flames having eaten away everything; everything which she had so willingly sacrificed.

She had nothing left.

Shosanna was well and truly alone.

The room fast filling with dark smoke, she clung to him. She touched and kissed him wherever she could; her lips smearing red on his uniform, over his chest full of medals, along the length of his neck, over his jawline, and to his face. Reaching his mouth, she covered it with her own, hard and bruising.

Though her lungs now burned and her body was rife with agony, Shosanna wept; openly and bitterly.

She wept for her family.

She wept for Ada.

She wept for Marcel.

She wept for Emmanuelle.

She wept for Fredrick.

She wept for herself.

Bleary-eyed, she could no longer see Fredrick's features through the haze and her tears. Features which she had come to memorize and know so well in their fleeting time together; features of the only person who had been able to break through her self-imposed barriers to reach the tenderest parts of her.

And so, she held tight to him.

There was never anything more than the two of them.

* * *

Shosanna awoke wide-eyed in the pale light of the morning.

Panicked, she rolled onto her side in a near violent jerk. There beside her lay Fredrick, sleeping soundly; his face serene.

She had to be certain.

She watched him; watched as he slept, her eyes fixed on the rise and fall of his bare chest.

The sky outside above them now brightened as onward, they continued towards Munich.

Shosanna could not help but smile.

Needing to feel the strong pulse of his body coursing through him, she curled herself into Fredrick, the rhythmic beating of his heart lulling her back to sleep.

* * *

It was mid morning when Fredrick awoke.

Shosanna laid half-way on top of him with her face buried in the crook of his neck, her breath soft and warm against his pulse. Along with that, her hand was palm flat on his chest near his heart, and her leg was hitched up and draped over his thighs. Never before had Fredrick felt so comfortable.

Lying in bed with the woman he loved and on a train headed for home, he was contented, even in the face of the previous night's turmoil.

Soon enough, the two would find themselves in Munich; with his family.

Fredrick thought of Helga; of how she would react to the sight of the German War Hero, back from the dead with the woman responsible for the end of the war in tow. Of course, Helga would see him as he was: her baby brother. She would, above all, be overjoyed to see that he did not in fact perish in a theater in Paris, France.

And that she would - he knew with complete certainty - easily welcome Shosanna into the lives of the Zoller family.

That would be how Helga Zoller would come to know Shosanna; _Shosanna Dreyfus_, not Emmanuelle Mimieux. Never again would Shosanna have to live under a pseudonym. Never again would she have to hide her identity, her heritage.

No matter what, Helga and the rest of the Zoller sisters would love and accept Shosanna - _they had to_ - because they were his family and because he loved her so.

He smiled, wide and open.

He finally felt a certain degree of peace.

He also felt as Shosanna's body shifted against him with her smooth, silken thigh rubbing against his own; so much so that he found himself terribly aroused.

Sucking in a breath, Fredrick wriggled beneath her with an anxiousness. She moved again; her knee gently, ever-so-lightly brushing against his arousal. Releasing the breath in frustration, he looked to the ceiling.

As Fredrick contemplated how to best handle the situation, he could feel Shosanna move once more as she now nuzzled his neck; could feel as her lips formed into a smile against his throat.

* * *

Fredrick stood by the bedside, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his dress shirt. It was one given to him by Edwige, having previously belonged to her brother. White and long sleeved, it was well tailored with small, polished buttons; buttons which were posing a problem for him.

Dressed in a pale silk robe that belted tightly at the waist, Shosanna was sifting through their suitcase, picking out something to wear. It was simple, mundane even - the daily ritual of waking up and getting ready for the day ahead. However, as Fredrick watched Shosanna lay her clothes out on the bed - undergarments, a slip, and a golden, scoop-neck dress - he realized it was a day-to-day ritual that they would continue to share together; from day-to-day to year after year.

Casually, Shosanna tugged at the belt of her robe, pulling the knot loose. Shrugging off the garment, she let it fall into a heap on the floor, revealing her bare body. Bathed in sunlight as it poured through the window, she was golden and resplendent. Fredrick stilled his manic fingers and watched her; his eyes traveling over her like a man discovering a treasure.

He smiled.

In that moment, a thrill coursed through Fredrick. It went beyond her nude form - though the sight of which never failed to stir him - to something far more vast. With a soft sigh, he finished his task, tucking the shirttails into his finely pleated slacks.

Shosanna, taking notice of her captive audience, turned to Fredrick, her eyes meeting his. There was a seriousness, a tension, etched in his features; for the swiftest of moments, she felt vulnerable, exposed. Shosanna was cautious, expressionless. It made him think of her photograph in her forged papers; not of Rachel Schwarzbaum, but of Emmanuelle Mimieux. Fredrick suddenly felt awkward and imperiled.

The two were silent for a while, holding each other's attention without word or movement. It was as if time stood still. Fredrick could hear the footsteps of another passenger making their way down the hallway, could hear a muffled conversation through the wall in the room next to them. Thinking of the previous night's activities, which carried over into that morning, he almost smirked, knowing that if it were just a few days earlier before his relationship with Shosanna had grown into what it was, he probably would have fretted over what others would have thought, had they heard them.

Even still, surrounded by the goings-on and lives of others, Shosanna remained his sole focus. There was something in the way she looked at Fredrick. It was always there, a kind of intuitiveness; she was able to trace the genealogy of his feelings and thoughts.

The corners of her mouth turning up, Shosanna stepped forward, bringing herself close to him. Carefully, she laid a hand upon his chest, feeling the rise and fall of it as Fredrick breathed and the beating of his heart against the flat of her palm. Then, tilting her head up, she lightly touched her lips to his, kissing him. Tentatively, Fredrick brought his hands to rest on her hips, holding her to him. Shosanna smiled against his mouth, and in response, Fredrick very slightly tightened his grip on her, giving a gentle squeeze.

There was a desire present between the two, but it was fueled by something far more than just a physical need.

Fredrick could feel the immense thrumming of Shosanna's heart through her chest against his own. He slid his hand from her hip to her lower back, and there, it settled, flattening against her flesh with his fingers fanning out and pressing Shosanna to him.

Never before had they felt so safe; their only fear was that of interruption. Neither could feign confusion with what was felt, yet unsaid between them. Neither could deny how far they both had come, nor could they ignore how the difficulty of their connection had increased its ferocity; how alive with courage and fervor it was.

What the two felt within that moment with one another was the center of life; the very core of all feeling and thought. There was coincidence and meaning in all that surrounded them, both a terrifying complexity and simplicity, both agony and delight. Nothing went unnoticed.

Shosanna's mouth against Fredrick's was now not so much a kiss, as it was an indeterminate crush. The pulse of her only intensified; her heart within her chest like a caged bird. It would not recede, nor would it quiet down. His own heart racing, Fredrick just held her.

* * *

It was early afternoon when their train arrived in Munich.

Fredrick worked to pack their suitcase and tend to some last minute straightening of their room as Shosanna checked with the train car attendant to collect their identification papers. With his Luger tucked away, cap pulled down low, and luggage in hand, he was ready to leave as soon as she returned to their room. Their affairs in order, the two of them, as Ernst and Rachel Schwarzbaum, were prepared to face the next stage of their lives together.

It was, however, slow going.

The train station was bustling with both civilians and military personnel alike. No one, whether boarding or departing, was going anywhere without having their papers scrutinized under a watchful pair of eyes first. Shosanna, taking the lead, clutched Fredrick's hand in her own. Not one to let down her guard, she surveyed the crowds from the train car windows as best she could. Noting the drab green and tan uniforms mixed in with the rest of the average citizens, she was able to determine that Munich, just as Edwige had clued them earlier at the inn, was occupied by American forces. It was also detectable that there were some English among them; the Allied forces were utilizing as many of their men as possible.

The tension in his body was now evident as Fredrick's grip on Shosanna's hand was becoming increasingly tighter and his palm was growing slick with sweat. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inwardly, his nerves were fraying. It was of total importance that they get off that train, lest he entirely unravel. In order to do so, Fredrick had to keep his cool. In a show of solidarity and in an effort to placate him, Shosanna rubbed the pad of her thumb over the skin on the back of his hand in slow, lazy circles. Though the strength of his hand over hers did not lessen any, the action worked to bring them both a small measure of comfort.

When their turn finally came, the two were immediately accosted - though rather politely - by a young soldier the moment they stepped off the train. Standing tall and proud, the soldier gave them a salute and an introduction,

"Private James Mayhew, at your service."

Judging by his khaki attire and heavily accented, albeit fluent German, he was English. Red-haired and fair-skinned with a face full of freckles, it was hard for Shosanna to not notice how out of place James looked; he couldn't possibly have been any older than either she or Fredrick.

Wanting to make their ordeal as pleasant as he could, the soldier smiled widely as he looked over their papers. Shosanna and Fredrick, maintaining their composure, remained blank-faced. Reading their names, his bright expression sobered. His eyes meeting theirs, James gave them a meaningful look, followed by a solemn,

"I am sorry."

Fredrick gave Shosanna a glance, as certainly, the soldier's words carried more meaning and weight for her sake rather than his own. She was unflinching, retaining her stoicism. Turning back to the soldier, Fredrick accepted it with a simple nod of his head. It was perhaps more out of protocol than out of personal curiosity, but James persisted with more questions.

"What brings the two of you back to Munich?"

Fredrick stammered. As a German, speaking the language to a non-native speaker in his own country, the reason for his presence should've been obvious. The soldier was insistent, pressing on,

"Herr Schwarzbaum, you yourself are German. But your wife, Frau Schwarzbaum, was born in Paris, France, as indicated on her papers. As you both have stepped off of the train from Paris - and bearing in mind your heritage - I was wondering, what brings you back here to Munich?"

Fredrick was noticeably perplexed by such invasive questioning, and watching their exchange, Shosanna turned to him for clarification. Given the seriousness of their situation, it had all but nearly slipped from Fredrick's mind that she did not understand German.

"He wants to know why we've returned to Munich," Fredrick informed her.

James, keeping a steady eye on them both, took into account how Fredrick spoke to Shosanna in French. His careful observance of them both did not pass by without regard. But before he or Fredrick could say anything more, Shosanna cut in, speaking directly to the soldier; whether he could sense of her words or not was no longer a matter for her. The emotion that colored her voice - which previously would've been to her peril - now served to save her and Fredrick.

"There was no place for my husband here during the war, and certainly not for myself, either. Oui, the same held true in France, but the odds there were better in our favor. But now, _this_ is where he wants to be, and I am to be with him."

James, now flustered, took on an apologetic tone in her language,

"It is not my intent to put either of you at unease, it is just that… we cannot afford to _not_ be too careful."

Shosanna was steadfast with her words. All that she had survived, all that she had felt had risen to the surface of her voice,

"I _know_ how it is to be careful."

Chastened, the soldier handed the two their papers back. Not a word more passed between them.

* * *

Shosanna and Fredrick were silent for the duration of their trek through the train station. Upon entering the open city, she spoke quietly, her eyes directed ahead.

"Forgive me, but I've had my fill of uniforms."

Saying nothing, Fredrick reached for Shosanna's hand and took it into his own, their fingers intertwining.

* * *

With Fredrick taking the lead, he navigated the two of them through as much of Munich as they could cover by foot on their journey to _Das Kino Haus_. Along the way, he pointed out all the familiar sights to her. Though it was all foreign to Shosanna, she was nonetheless beguiled with Fredrick's seemingly infinite joy. She was certain that if he were able to, he'd spend the rest of the day showing her every corner of Munich; it was in the way his features lit up with recollection and the lilt in his voice as he spoke. In spite of it all, this was _his_ city and he was coming home.

The bookshop Elsa had worked in still stood, prompting Fredrick to tell Shosanna of how his second oldest sister now lived in Barcelona with her lover, a painter.

"Elsa really fell in love with Spain. After she met Teresita, that was it. There was no way she was returning to Munich."

Shosanna found such particulars nearly jolting; she held no doubt that such a detail went unmentioned to Goebbels. Coupled with all she had come to know of Fredrick and his family so far, it seemed uncharacteristic for a German War Hero to come from such unconventional stock. The differences between the Fredrick depicted on screen and the Fredrick she knew still shouldn't have astounded her, but they did.

It was also by Fredrick's estimation that the elderly Frau Vogt most likely had passed on in the years he was away. His voice hushed at that; _away_. But Fredrick did not openly dwell upon it. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to a quaint little candy shop.

A smile spread across his face.

"My sister Annaleisa used to tease me as a child that if I didn't stop buying sweets from there, that'd I grow up to be fat and toothless."

Shosanna, finding much amusement in his story, laughed, and as she laughed, Fredrick's smile widened.

"Yet, she is the one who grew up with a love of baking. I'd have told her the same, but I couldn't. That'd have been too easy."

He then paused, his eyes looking ahead as his mind wandered to thoughts of his sister. Shosanna watched Fredrick; she knew that there was more he wanted to say.

"Annaleisa lives in Berlin, now. She's married to a poet named Max. They reckon themselves to be Socialists."

He turned his face to her, and giving a shrug, Fredrick's smile returned.

"I'm not the only one of us to have gone away from home."

Shosanna, now, too, smiled.

They had both grown quiet, but not uncomfortably so; for Fredrick, just to be back in Munich with Shosanna was more than enough.

More and more, from the cafe in Paris, to their time together at _Le Rossignol_ and on the train, Fredrick was opening up to her and welcoming her into his life. He wanted Shosanna; well and truly wanted to be with her. That was never a question for Fredrick. Now, more than ever, she could feel that want. And, as the two continued through the streets of Munich, hand in hand toward their destination, Shosanna knew that she wanted the same.

* * *

There it stood, _Das Kino Haus_. And there, before it, were Shosanna and Fredrick. As they neared it, he quickened his pace, dragging her along behind him. Seeing the theater which he spoke of so fondly at long last, she now understood its importance. Unlike the sleek modernity once held by _Le Gamaar_, _Das Kino Haus_ wore its history proudly and openly in its stone and mortar construction. Astonishingly breath-taking, it was intensely beautiful and other-worldly in a way. But whereas Shosanna completely splendored in its grandiosity, Fredrick, she could see, found within its structure a comfort, a safety. For him, much like _Le Gamaar_ was for her, _Das Kino Haus_ was his shelter, his escape from the world; _this was where he belonged._

Shosanna looked on as Fredrick's eyes drifted to the marquee. As he read over it, his brow furrowed.

"It says the theater is temporarily closed."

Mouth pursed, Fredrick looked away from her. For as alive as he was, his family was still yet unaware. In their minds, Fredrick Zoller was dead. He roughly swallowed and managed to speak, though it was more of an aloud thought than it was a direct statement. There was a distance in his voice.

"I had forgotten."

Fredrick took a moment more of silence. However discomforted he had felt, it seemed to have passed as he then raised his face; surreptitiously, he looked about them, taking mental stock of their surroundings. Shosanna waited, watching as he mentally processed all he had taken in. Fredrick said nothing, but she could tell he was plotting _something_.

Her hand still in his, he led Shosanna away from _Das Kino Haus_, ducking into an alleyway. Silent though thoroughly startled, she complied. Easily, she matched his purposeful, brisk pace as the two cut a path back behind the storefronts leading to the back entrance of the theater.

Shosanna watched him with a cool expectancy. Whatever trick he had up his sleeve, now, she surmised, was the time to deliver. No one, however, was more aware of this than Fredrick. One thing Shosanna had come to learn quickly about him was that he was far more clever than he let on; that side of him was, like so much else about him, something that only she was privy to.

He ran his fingertips over the wall of the theater, until coming upon a wedge of loose stone. With precision, Fredrick plucked it from its place, revealing a copper key. He reached for it, taking it in hand as he put the stone back. He smiled, pleased with his find.

"It was Elsa's," Fredrick elaborated as he went to work unlocking the backdoor, "As she spent less and less time here and more and more in the bookshop, Gerda kept the key hidden here."

The door, large and dense, now budged and with a bit of force, he pulled it open, allowing for Shosanna to enter first.

"Gerda is awfully forgetful of things if they aren't boys or clothes or whatever is currently catching her fancy, you see," He went on, following closely behind her, "And, it seems, that hasn't changed."

It was perhaps out of habit from working in a own theater for the previous four years, but Shosanna was able to hunt out the light switch to the right of her, and illuminate the back room with soft, yellow lighting. Fredrick closed and locked the door before joining her at her side as she looked around her. The room was used for storage: rolled up posters and plush, unused furniture, marquee signs, letters and other decorations; all were organized and covered in a fine layer of dust, all awaiting the moment to fulfill their purpose.

Shosanna moved through it all with careful strides, but Fredrick flitted about, his eyes and hands on anything and everything that piqued his interest. As he became occupied with a Greta Garbo poster, Shosanna glimpsed a bit of a marquee billboard in the furthest corner of the room nearby the room's entrance leading out to the rest of the theater. She found herself drawn to it. Obscured by rolled up posters and other memorabilia, Shosanna could make out part of an olive green uniform as she approached it.

She knelt in front of it and moving aside the posters and other obstructions, she brought herself face-to-face with the stoic visage of Fredrick Zoller. Taken aback, she scrambled to her feet, and froze in place where she stood. Hearing her, Fredrick looked up from Garbo's distracting visage to find Shosanna standing before himself, smartly dressed in his uniform and looking out toward the horizon of a new world once promised by a tyrannical regime.

It was both at once surreal and disarming. There was silence in the room as Fredrick contemplated just what he was seeing.

Shosanna blinked at the sight of it, startled. She wondered about Fredrick, as to how he must've felt, having returned to Munich and his family's theater only to be confronted by the image of himself as he was portrayed in Goebbels' spectacle. She looked to him; his expression was one of complete concentration, his brows stitched together and his mouth set in a thin line.

Fredrick turned his head to face her, their eyes meeting. Body tensing, Shosanna anticipated his reaction.

He gave a slow, crooked smile.

"I told you it was an eyesore."

Though she supposed she expected something different, _something_ more from him, it was definite that after having come this far, Fredrick was not to be deterred. And as he held the door leading out to the lobby open for her, neither was she.

* * *

"My father had it built for my mum. He oversaw every detail."

Shosanna stood in amazement. Brightly lit and composed of polished marble floors with smooth stone pillars and walls, _Das Kino Haus_ resembled more of a cathedral than a theater; it was both decadent and reverential. On the walls hung framed posters for all manner of film, from _Auf Wiedersehen Doesn't Mean Goodbye_ starring Bridget von Hammersmark, F.W. Murnau's _Faust_, to Disney's _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_.

As she wandered the expanse of the lobby, taking it all in, Fredrick stood by and watched her. He watched her with wonder, with love; he recalled how he had first seen her in the lobby of _Le Gamaar_ and all those following moments after, of how he fell under the total compliance of his heart's most desperate desires. It was when he had taken his first steps that diverted far from the pathway that had been determined for him. It was when he had loved, and he loved so deeply. It was because of Shosanna that he was able to find comfort in a foreign country; she brought him solace, she brought him home.

If only either had known then what would become of them now.

Fredrick looked on as Shosanna reached out to run her hand along a pillar, as she stood admiring a poster for _The Golem_ with her hands clasped behind her back, and as her eyes, scanning every detail, would settle back onto him. His arms crossed over his chest, Fredrick stood with his head cocked to the side. His forelocks had fallen into his face as he had since removed the cap, allowing for Shosanna to better see his eyes, which were full of affection and humor. His mouth was set in a slight, lop-sided grin.

Neither spoke; rather, words were unnecessary as the two faced one another, eyes locked.

Shosanna went to him, the click of the soles of her shoes upon the floor echoing throughout the theater. As she closed the space between them, Fredrick raised his hand up to cup the side of her face; her cheek curved as she smiled, fitting so well against his palm. Then, leaning into her, Fredrick bowed his head and brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her. The contact was light, soft, and brief. He trailed his fingertips over her cheekbone and further down, to her jawline; just as Shosanna closed her eyes, just as she allowed herself to ease into his touch, he stopped, pulling back from her.

Grinning widely, Fredrick turned away, silently indicating for her to follow. Playfully rolling her eyes in response, she went along with him.

She always would.

* * *

Shosanna had first thought that Fredrick was to lead her up the grandiose staircase to the projection booth. Instead, he brought her to a pair of double-doors at the other side of the lobby, which led them into the theater auditorium.

It was _gorgeous_. Large and spacious, with a greater capacity than _Le Gamaar_, it was more than she could have ever expected. The seating was luxurious, complete with a magnificent balcony. However, it was the film screen that captured Shosanna's attention.

Positioned above a small stage and veiled in red velvet, it was a spectacle unto itself. Imposingly enormous, its width spanned nearly that of the entire wall, and centered directly above it hung the comedy-drama mask.

"My mum lived for the stage."

Fredrick's voice was faraway, wistful. As softly as he spoke, his words still carried through, filling the auditorium. Shosanna turned to look over her shoulder at him. He stood by the doorway, watching her.

"After meeting my father and settling down, she found less and less time for it," Fredrick expounded, "And by then, she compensated for that by visiting a little movie house. Most of the other actors she knew were starting to panic; they feared the loss of their profession, their art form."

He shook his head bemusedly at the thought.

"But not my mum. She embraced film. She _loved_ it, she loved the escape it provided."

With a small smile, Fredrick continued.

"They then moved to Munich. She hated leaving that little theater behind. My father wanted to do this for her."

Shosanna raised her face back to the screen, now gazing upon it with a new awe. These were things - _important things_ - she could tell, that he did not share with anyone else outside of his family. Fredrick went briefly silent before proceeding on a melancholic note,

"It became even more important to us that we keep _Das Kino Haus_ going after she passed away. We all grew up here; as soon as we were able to, we all learned how to run the projector along with every other little detail. This place is a part of us, as it was a part of her."

There was a resonance there in his words; of sadness, of loss. But, there was something more to it: an encompassing love.

_Das Kino Haus_ was a monument to love, for love. For Shosanna, it brought to mind _Le Gamaar_, Ada Mimieux and Marcel; of how Fredrick's parents, like she and him, had taken a risk their hearts had urged upon them. That, for all the German War Hero and the Jewish Girl had been through in order to make it this far, they were not alone. That encompassing love was something they had all shared, and if there was anything that had truly set Shosanna and Fredrick apart, it was their willfulness to take that love beyond set boundaries and sensible limits; their love, which had before seemed so impossible, was now a reality - their reality.

Their love - _their reality_ - was endless.

With her eyes transfixed by the film screen, Shosanna could feel the rise of emotion within her as it manifested itself as a hitched breath within her throat, threatening to spill from her, be it in tears or elation. But just as she was certain she was to be overpowered by all that she felt, Shosanna stilled; the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the red velvet parted to reveal, on screen, Harold Lloyd as the Boy, making the precarious climb up the storefront in _Safety Last_. Dazed, she spun around on her heel, to find that Fredrick was not there. But Shosanna was not entirely alone, as she craned her neck to see him at the window of the projection booth, smiling down at her.

* * *

The projection booth of _Das Kino Haus_ was roomier than the one Shosanna worked in at _Le Gamaar_. Though indeed, much like her own, it was homey: there were neatly stacked tins of film and film magazines on the floor, posters and other little notes tacked up on the walls, and in the far left corner was a rather comfortable-looking pile of pillows for the projectionist who had tired of a night's particular showing.

She and Fredrick, in all of their training, remained by the projector, standing side-by-side. Her eyes focused on screen as the Boy was now dangling from the department store building clock-face. Fredrick's interest was not so much on Harold Lloyd's antics as it was on her; watching as she watched the film. Even in the darkness, Shosanna could not be obscured.

"The film was left in the projector," Fredrick quietly explained, "My mum loved Harold Lloyd, as does Helga."

Shosanna turned to him; his eyes were averted to the floor. There was no need for him to say anything further, as it was apparent that though Helga had closed the theater, she was spending time there to cope with her grief over the perceived loss of her brother. To no one specifically, Fredrick then nodded and looked away into the soft, formless dark of the projection booth. Without forethought, Shosanna stepped forward, removing all distance between them and reached out to him, laying her hand upon his cheek. As she touched Fredrick, he touched her, covering her hand with his own.

She watched Fredrick as he watched her; the play of light and shadows upon his features and the ardor she found there. There was an intensity and a fearlessness in his gaze, an unconditional earnestness which would have unnerved her, if not for the fact that the energy of their connection was so overpowering.

It was then that she had thought of the two of them in the projection booth that night and how, in the pitch blackness, he had sought her out in anguish. It was the unbearable frustration, loneliness, and incompleteness between them. The parallels between that night and that moment were not lost on Shosanna, and as Fredrick's eyes searched hers, she knew that he was aware of it, too; that all the two had been able to give of themselves to the other now, neither had been able to give then.

Though there was a warmth and familiarity found between them, all else was far too strange, far too unexpected. There was still more yet that they had to overcome; to share and to feel with each other. But here, now, the two had come far enough with one another - far enough to know just where they stood and what they wanted.

Fredrick removed his hand from hers and using the force of his body, he brought them both to the wall of the projection booth beside the room's entrance, pinning Shosanna against it. His strength was intimidating to her on some levels, but oddly alluring on others. With his eyes looking to her with such a ferociousness and his mouth poised above hers, Shosanna looked up at Fredrick, unable to collect her thoughts. Without pause, he inclined his head to hers, his lips closing over her own with an urgency and a hunger. Shosanna closed her eyes, relaxing into him; if not for his body against hers, she was certain she would sink beneath him. Taking her hand, she brought it lightly to his chest, feeling the hammering of his heart with her fingertips. As if to test Fredrick, she pressed her palm to him, feeling his solidity.

A sound catching in his throat, Fredrick broke the kiss. Pulling back from her, he left Shosanna wide-eyed and tremulous, her lips wet. Reaching up, he caught her face between his palms with surprising gentleness. Fredrick watched her with fascination, his mouth forming into a faint smile and his eyes welling up with an unnameable emotion. His voice was hushed in reverence,

"_Du bist zu schön_."

Within his effortless declaration, Shosanna found a poignancy. All that Fredrick wanted had always been so straightforward, so resolute: Shosanna. He wanted her. Shosanna knew that he always would; Fredrick would never tire of demonstrating his want and need of her. With Shosanna, came the promise of stability, of normalcy. Fredrick had been, she supposed, naive in his desire for her; contented with the simple notion that if the two of them were able to be together, then it would all fall in line. But he learned - and he learned quickly - just how complicated the fulfillment of that desire could be.

All that there was between Fredrick and Shosanna culminated that night in the projection booth; the fire, the war's end, their death and rebirth. It was the traumas of their pasts and the tenuous precariousness of their future. It was their link; all that they had and all that they were. Natural. Inevitable. Never had that felt more true than now, here in Munich, within the projection booth of his family's theater at this point in their lives when the two needed walls more than ever before.

There was more, perhaps, that he wanted to tell her, but the words were lost in the press of his mouth to hers as he slid his tongue deeply inside. There was no cautiousness now as Fredrick moved his hands down from her face and to her body as a means to anchor himself to her as the fierceness of their union increased. For all of the uncertainty and doubt the two faced, there was no questioning what was held between them. In this moment, Fredrick was giving and taking all he could of Shosanna and she was reciprocating, surrendering; responding to his every touch, his every breath.

She felt as his strong fingers skimmed lightly down the front of her dress, seeking the shape of her small, rounded breasts. He cradled the weight of them in his palms, giving a soft squeeze. He then ran his thumbs over her nipples, bringing them to hardened points, eliciting a shiver from her and a rough sound of approval from him. Her receptiveness only encouraged him more. Fredrick was unrelenting as he continued, trailing heat over Shosanna's body as his hands glided along the inward curves of her waist and further down, kneading over the contours of her hips.

As he roamed his hands over the shape and plane of her body, Fredrick groaned and instinctually, he pushed his hips up against her. Shosanna felt his hands slide heavily behind her, up and over her back and down again, settling on her ass. He then used the intimate grip to urge her against his thighs. She could feel the power and readiness of his body; it was uncontrollable and it was consuming them. Shosanna trembled against him, causing Fredrick to break the kiss and mutter a swear in German against her mouth. He didn't release her; instead, he moved a hand to rest at the small of her back and brought the other up to the side of her face.

There was a satisfaction held within his eyes; a flicker of _something_ that made Shosanna draw in a breath. There was no apprehension, only an unexpected anticipation. Fredrick watched her a moment longer, as if debating his next move. A ghost of a smile played upon his lips as delicately, he stroked his hand over her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her scar. Her eyes fluttering shut, Shosanna released her breath in a ragged exhale, her breasts moving against his chest. Fredrick's voice was a whisper - more words she couldn't comprehend - as he then lowered his head to her neck. Her thoughts were now chaotic, feeling as his mouth, warm and demanding, journeyed over the arc of her throat. Shosanna could feel the pulse of him, of his body; the sheer steadiness of it. Her breathing having grown rough now, she gave a muted cry.

Fredrick's mouth now hovered just above Shosanna's parted lips. Eyes opening, she looked up at him. There was something challenging in his stare; something both at once formidable and thoughtful. He tightened his hold around her, pushing hard against her. Shosanna moaned as she felt the evidence of his arousal, knowing that Fredrick wanted her to be conscious of it. He was harder, harder than he had been a moment before. She quivered beneath him, her body arching into his. Fredrick's hand moved from the side of her face to soothe the back of her neck as he held Shosanna with gentle firmness against his mouth, the slick of his tongue once more sliding over hers; the kiss was no less enthralling or forceful than it had been the first time.

It was within his demonstration of his supreme need for her that Fredrick overwhelmed and claimed her as if by right, the solid warmth of him enveloping her. Though it was certainly not the first time he had held her, it was now something more; his body cloaking hers, his heart against her own. The sensation was captivating. Shosanna could feel it pulsing through her now, and Fredrick undoubtedly sensed it, as he gave a low moan.

The film had ended moments ago, as the two became engulfed with each other. Everything was quiet save for the murmur of their straining bodies; heavy and thick, it weighed down upon them. Both knew that here, in the dark confines of the projection booth, the two could give of one another all that they could not that night. It would've been so simple, to do away with the thin barriers that impeded them and be with one another, entrenched with shadow; the world around them blotted out.

But their endeavor, much like that night, was interrupted. Their orchestra of racing heartbeats and gasping breaths was cut through by the intrusive sound of the presence of another in the theater lobby. Immediately, Fredrick went rigid, opening a space between he and Shosanna. Though he released her, he still stood by, shielding her. All his passions were now set aside as Fredrick had his defenses up. Body tightening, his brows knitted together and he frowned as he listened; in the dim lighting cast by the projector, his expression appeared harsher than it was.

There were footsteps, followed by a muffled voice calling out in German.

Fredrick's jaw clenched. Shosanna could sense his hesitance; he wanted to come bounding out of the booth, but he restrained himself. Running a hand through his hair, Fredrick took in a jagged breath. There was more indistinct German from the lobby, followed by a stretch of silence. Looking to the doorway, he gave an infinitesimal nod of his head; Shosanna could see the wheels turning in his mind. She straightened herself from against the wall, and without giving so much as a glance, Fredrick raised a hand, wordlessly instructing her to stay where she stood. Bracing himself, he took hold of the door's handle, yanking it open and stepping out into the hallway.

Shosanna could hear more movement, then a woman's voice, speaking in German. Holding her breath, she went still, waiting for Fredrick's response. His voice was barely above a whisper,

"_Helga_."

Hurriedly, Shosanna emerged from the booth to find Fredrick frozen stock-still as he directly faced the woman - _Helga, his sister_ - standing at the bottom of the staircase, eyes fixed on his. She couldn't help but be taken aback by the older woman. Tall and lean, Helga possessed cream colored skin, warm eyes, and soft, youthful features much like Fredrick himself had; as she smiled up at him, it was also evident that quirky mouths and uneven grins were a distinctly Zoller trait. Though the brother and sister clearly had their similarities, Helga's complete femininity and loveliness was more than noticeable, even as she stood before them, clad in a pair of dingy work coveralls and thick-soled boots with her tawny hair piled up and pinned back. She was all at once delicate and resilient; it seemed that such contradictions ran in the family.

A knapsack, which had been slung over Helga's shoulder, now fell to the floor as she hardly made any effort to mind it as her body had gone slack. Eyes wide and face beaming, she looked upon him with dumbstruck awe; it was as if that through her tears, prayers, and whispered pleas to the universe, her brother, the war hero, had been resurrected from the dead. Using the last threads of her resolve, she bounded up the stairs towards him, only for her knees to buckle and give out from under her half-way up. Trembling, Fredrick propelled himself toward her, meeting her where she had stumbled. There, the two embraced in a collapsed heap in a flagrant display of unbridled emotion. Words slurred as their laughter and tears intermingled, as their jubilation and sorrow bled into each other. Such a sight it was, that if anyone were to intrude upon them, the two would appear to be outright hysterical. Shosanna remained where she stood, watching years of separation and anguish unfurl into reconciliation and exhilaration.

Wiping away tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands, Helga spoke to Fredrick in their shared language. She reached out to him, placing her hand beneath his chin, tipping his head back and turning it from side to side as she looked him over. She then spoke more, making a comment which made him laugh. It was a rich, vibrant sound that filled the lobby, amplifying its magnitude; it was a sound, Shosanna realized, she had not heard enough of. The siblings carried on with their exaltation, and though Shosanna could not make entire sense of their words, she shared in their splendor nonetheless. The reunion was, for her, both touching and bittersweet as she called to mind the loss of her family. No matter how far and how long she journeyed, Shosanna could not hope to see them again; not as how Fredrick was able to now hold his sister. Her heart lurched in her chest.

It was as if she had sensed this, for it was then that Helga raised her eyes from behind Fredrick's shoulder to finally take notice of the young woman. Obviously shamed at not having acknowledged her initially, a blush rose to Helga's face. Steadily, she brought herself to her feet, and out of nerviness, she brushed back a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Helga then smiled, wide and genuine at her. Shosanna stepped forward, though she was uncertain of what do or to say; after all she had learned of Fredrick's oldest sister and his family's theater, she almost felt like an outsider on holy ground. It was ridiculous of her, Shosanna knew, but she had developed an admiration for the woman, even if they had not met until now. Fredrick straightened, and turned to face Shosanna, his features marked with a mix of adoration and excitement.

She now held their full attention.

There was a recognition in Helga's eyes and a familiarity in her voice,

"Emmanuelle Mimieux?"

It was quite plain that her reputation preceded her, even in Munich. Shosanna swallowed, wanting to speak. But Fredrick, in all his sincerity, spoke for her,

"She _was_."

Helga looked to Fredrick, then back to Shosanna. Her brows meeting, she did not wholly follow. Shosanna now brought herself to the head of the stairs, and boldly, she introduced herself.

"I am Shosanna Dreyfus."

A straightforward pronouncement, it was all she needed to say and all Helga needed to know. She gave a slow nod of her head as steadfastly, she climbed up the rest of the stairs that encompassed the expanse between her and the younger woman. Reaching the top, neither said a word as Helga crushed Shosanna to her. Just as easily as she welcomed her into her arms, Shosanna, too, circled her arms around Helga, accepting the gesture and all that came with it.


End file.
